


You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Blood, Bratva, Bratva AU, Death, Exes, F/M, Fanart, Fluff, Future Fic, Ghosts, Gore, Inspired by a Movie, Pregnancy, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Tattoos, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vampires, Werewolf felicity, bratva!Oliver, cursing, dying, exes au, vampire felicity, vampire oliver
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 52
Words: 115,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My collection of (mostly) alternate universe meetings/fics featuring Oliver and Felicity, ranging from tattoos to Bratva to best friends to college to ghosts to exes meeting up again to vampires and werewolves.</p><p>Recently added:</p><p>42) AU. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!”<br/>43) AU. "Please don't get married."<br/>44) Exes AU. A bet.<br/>45) Single Dad Oliver AU. “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”<br/>46) AU. Oliver comes back from the island a broken man... "Can I kiss you?"<br/>47) AU. Oliver is a vampire. Felicity is a werewolf.<br/>48) AU. Rival artists.<br/>49) Vampire/Werewolf AU. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089/chapters/30102519">Chapter 47</a>. Oliver and Felicity’s families find out about them and their entire world comes crashing down.<br/>50) Rival Artists AU. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089/chapters/30219312">Chapter 48</a>.  “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.”<br/>51) Best Friends AU. "You know."<br/>52) Ghosts AU. “Stop running from this. I know I’m not the only one who feels it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything Arrow-related.

Soft chatter and a very distinct buzzing noise filled her ears, making her skin feel extra tight and kind of itchy. The buzzing stopped and started intermittently, without any real pattern, and she had to wonder how that must feel, a bunch of needles stabbing into your skin over and over and over again… It was making her jumpy.

They’d already filled out all the paperwork, had their ID’s checked and now they were just… waiting.

The random sound of Sin flipping through a magazine was putting her even more on edge. The barely legal teenager sat at the heavily-stickered-and-drawing-covered desk, fingers tapping, looking like sitting in a place where people came in to have something permanently etched into their skin was the most boring place in the world.

She could not be any more wrong.

Felicity Smoak stared at the wall, eyes darting everywhere, unable to find one thing to focus on.

The green neon sign in the window - “Green Arrow Tattoo & Piercing” - gave all the drawings an unearthly glow, highlighting all the colors and the greyscale and the tribals and the flowers and the dragons and the…

She blinked. The entire wall felt like it was coming to life, forcing a huge, very permanent life decision on her.

“I change my mind,” she blurted.

Thea Queen sighed loudly. “This is the fourth time, ‘Lis. You’re freaking out.”

“What if I don’t like flowers in five years? What if I don’t like the color blue? What if it isn’t done right, or what if I get really fat and it stretches and then I lose all the weight and it’s a saggy flower?” Felicity pointed at each picture as she talked, “Or a saggy dragon, or heart, or knife, or knife in a heart, or moon or sun, or knife in a moon, and wow, there is a definite theme with these, isn’t there?”

Thea touched Felicity’s shoulder and leaned in. “You’re not getting a tattoo, Felicity.”

“But this was supposed to be our rebellious college graduation gift to ourselves.”

“That’s what yours was,” Thea pointed out. “Mine is some of that, some I like sunflowers, and some I want to see my mother’s face when I show her.”

“She will kill you.”

“I know she will. You wanna switch moms?”

Felicity snorted. “Donna Smoak would definitely let out a loud, ‘Oh my god, so cute!’ if I ever did get a tattoo. She will with you too. And then she’ll hug you. And possibly ask if you want to get matching ones.”

“Yeah, I love your mom.” Thea shrugged. “So I’ll show her and we just won’t mention any of this to Moira. Or we’ll show her your very tattoo-less skin to take the attention off me.”

“That is a great plan.” Felicity hooked her arm with Thea’s. “I see that going over very well.”

The sound of movement behind a large partition wall caught their attention and they turned in unison as a young man stepped out, staring at a new watercolor cityscape across his inner forearm, followed by…

“Oh crap,” Thea whispered. “He wasn’t supposed to be here today.”

Felicity’s heart skipped a couple - or a lot - of beats as she watched Oliver Queen follow him out, sidling up next to Sin. He reached under the desk and pulled out a box full of tiny sample tubes of A&D as he said, “Put it on every couple of hours. Don’t put too much on though, don’t glob it on there, it can pull some of the ink out. Keep it out of the sun and…”

Felicity had first met Thea when she started MIT.

She had been there on a full scholarship, eager to earn her way out of her Vegas background and the perpetual smell of old sweat and fried food that had developed a permanent residence in her skin and hair from years of waitressing during high school. Thea had been there as a last ditch effort by her parents to force her to focus on something - anything - that would keep her out of the dangerous world of the Glades in her hometown of Starling City.

Felicity hadn’t really know what the heck the Glades were - her mind had immediately jumped to a bunch of giant air fresheners as houses - or what Thea had gotten into when she had been there, but she had recognized the classic signs of someone who was lost and anchorless in a sea of despair. They were a pretty frequent sight in Las Vegas.

Somehow Thea and Felicity had been put in the same dorm, assigned to each other as roommates, and they had sparked a connection that had managed to keep Thea in for one painfully bad semester before Felicity found out _why_ Thea was the way she was - and she only found out because the very reason for it appeared out of the blue and at their dorm room with a bundle of crappy flowers on Thursday morning.

Oliver had disappeared five years previous - completely disappeared. One day he was there, the next he wasn’t. There were rumors that he had joined the military, that someone had kidnapped him, that his parents had gotten sick of his antics and shoved him off to another country for penance. There were even rumors he had died and the family was covering it up because it was a scandalous story. Even Felicity, all the way over in Vegas, had heard about the crazy stuff he had done before he’d vanished from the public eye.

Thea hadn’t taken it well. From the little tidbits Felicity had managed to gather, they had had a connection, and when he left? It took about a year before that tethered connection drove Thea over the edge and she spent the subsequent years in a very dark place.

But the second he had come back - after the initial pushing him away again, getting angry, letting her grades tank… Thea had gotten better. So much better. She’d become a different Thea, and Felicity had reaped the benefits of it.

And by osmosis along the way, she’d seen the same effect on Oliver.

Well, the few times she saw him that is.

It had taken only three incredibly horrifying and awkward encounters with what she had immediately deemed as one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever set eyes on to know that she really should not be around Oliver Queen at all. Ever. Never ever.

Felicity felt the hot prickle of a blush climbing up her neck and spreading across her face as she remembered the few times they had spent more than five minutes together, alone. It was different when there were other people around, she could use them as shields and deflecting mechanisms, especially when she went to the Queen mansion for dinners or for the huge parties she somehow always ended up at despite her protestations.

In fact, the last time she had ended up alone with him without a buffer had been at the Christmas party last year, in one of the upstairs hallways. 

He was always so nice, not laughing when she shoved her foot in her mouth or looking annoyed when she couldn’t keep her lips glued together. He would give her this smile, a smile that sent a swarm of chills racing up and down her spine and left her feeling like her heart was pumping pure adrenaline instead of just blood. 

Her crush on him had been instantaneous, from the second she had gone to lunch with them in the months after his return. It had started out so innocently and then it blew up in her face with a spontaneous smile and breathy chuckle when she blurted how much she noticed when he said he was pretty careful about what he put in his body.

That hadn’t been the embarrassing part - the embarrassing part had been when she’d talked about what she put in her body, and how certain parts hadn’t had anything put in them for a while, and oh god, she wanted to die from humiliation all over again because who actually _talked_ about that in mixed company?

Just thinking about the way he’d pinched his lips to keep from laughing out loud and Thea staring at her…

Thankfully a man with a really mysterious past who ran a successful tattoo shop in the dead center of the Glades didn’t come around too often, especially when Boston wasn’t exactly a car drive away, and thankfully her study load at MIT had been heavy. So when he was there, she always begged off and avoided the embarrassment like a skilled ninja.

He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.

Thea just had to pick her brother’s tattoo shop, didn’t she?

Oliver stopped talking when he finally noticed them.

“Sin will get you the instruction sheet and take care of payment.” Oliver murmured a figure to Sin before he offered the kid a friendly smile - one that even Felicity knew was the official Oliver Queen persona and not the man who had come back from his five years of wherever-the-heck-he’d-been - and shook his hand. “Thanks, man.”

“No, thank you, dude, this looks amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

When he looked at Thea again, every inch of congeniality disappeared as he made his way over to them.

“No,” he said by way of greeting, shaking his head. “Absolutely not, get out.”

Thea smiled thinly. “Sorry, Ollie, I kind of passed that part of being the little sister where you get to order me around a couple years ago.” The edge of bitterness wasn’t missed by anyone - so maybe Thea wasn’t all the way over Oliver’s disappearing-reappearing thing. Might have to do with the fact that he hadn’t told anyone a thing about where he’d been or what had happened.

Or why he’d come back.

Or why out of all the things a billionaire heir could do, he opened a tattoo shop.

In the middle of the scariest part of Starling City.

Did he even have tattoos?

“You’re not getting a tattoo in my shop, Speedy,” he said, deliberately emphasizing the nickname she hated. “I don’t think you realize what mom would do to me.”

“She’ll kill you.”

“Yeahuh,” Oliver said, nodding his head, his eyes wide and slightly shiny in a really terrifyingly menacing way.

Felicity felt Thea’s arm tighten where they were linked and she involuntarily stepped closer to her friend. Despite how much Thea wanted everyone to think to the contrary, she knew she wasn’t completely over the five years Oliver had been away; there were large parts of her that were still cut off from everyone, including her, mostly because Oliver was still cut off.

It usually came out when he tried to pull the big brother card. Like right now.

He pointed to the door. “Go.”

“No. I already have it picked out, I already signed the sheet and my best friend is here. Do you know how rarely we get to see each other?”

Felicity gave her a side eye. By that she meant they no longer lived together, but that didn’t mean they didn’t see each other for breakfast every morning in the little breakfast nook of Queen Consolidated where Felicity had landed a job in the IT department or every other night for dinner or all day on Saturdays, which had been deemed Spa Day.

Oliver let out an agitated sigh, glaring a hole into Thea’s face before he looked at Felicity. She desperately tried to ignore how her stomach bottomed out, especially when the ice in his eyes melted slightly, his face relaxing.

“Felicity,” he said softly, offering her a warm smile. Well, a warmer smile than what he had just given his sister.

“Oliver,” she replied, her voice coming out croaky. She cleared her throat. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He lingered for a second, just looking at her - Felicity fought the urge to cover her face because what if she had a pimple on her forehead? - when he said, “You’re… are you getting a tattoo?”

“Yes,” Felicity answered automatically before realizing what she said, just as Thea jerked to look at her too. “No! I mean no, no I’m not getting a tattoo. No.”

“So no then?” Thea asked sarcastically and Felicity shot her a look.

“They’re just so… permanent,” she said lamely.

“Yes,” Oliver said, looking at his sister. “They are. And you’re not getting one.”

“I’m 23, Ollie.”

“Who in the hell actually agreed to this?” Oliver bit out just as Roy Harper came from the back. His model-chiseled face was covered in barely concealed excitement and joy, but it immediately melted away when he saw Oliver.

“Roy did,” Thea said gleefully, dropping Felicity’s arm and moving towards him.

The look Oliver sent Roy was enough to set the entire building on fire and Roy held his hands up in supplication. “She said you knew about this, boss.”

“He does know about it,” Thea supplied and she was already pushing him into the back before any of them could say another word. Felicity heard Thea say, “And thanks for telling me he was going to be here, by the way,” and Roy’s sarcastic response, “What am I, the princess’ personal secretary?”

And then it was just her and Oliver.

Felicity wanted to rewind time and, instead of keeping herself planted in the same spot like a stupid gnome statue, follow Thea into the back. Instead she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, watching Oliver growl something under his breath before scrubbing his hands up his face and over his closely-sheared skull. 

Not that she noticed things like that. Or the way the sweater he wore did a great job - and when she said great, she meant _great_ job - of accenting his arms and the V-neck collar looked like it had been specifically designed for this man’s neck and shoulders. What an amazing thing the V-neck collar was, it was like an arrow highlighting everything good and pointing down to…

“Felicity?”

“What? Nothing!” Felicity’s eyes flew to Oliver’s face and she saw that stupid smile on his face again, which meant he’d caught her staring. Her face was on fire. Somehow her face was always on fire around him. She bit her lips and gave him a tight smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. The smile turned into a full-blown grin for a split second, leaving her slightly dazzled - honestly, who was dazzled by something as ridiculous as teeth? - before he pointed over his shoulder. “You can go back there, if you want.”

“Oh, okay, good.” She didn’t move and that dumb smile didn’t budge an inch on his face. “I’ll just go… there. Then.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Then.”

Felicity made a wide berth around him, eyes averted, putting this down as her fourth wonderfully awkward Oliver Queen encounter. Hopefully it would be a decade before she added a fifth one.

*

The flower Thea was getting was wonderfully small and tasteful, but that didn’t mean the tattoo was going very quickly.

Roy was taking his sweet freaking time, chit-chatting and giggling and being so cutesy-cute that Felicity had to step away. It was an amazing feat on his part considering the object of his infatuation’s brother was literally three feet away from him, perfecting his dagger stare on the back of Roy’s head.

And her needing to escape had nothing to do with the fact that when she glanced at Oliver, his eyes also happened to be on her at the same time. 

Hello, butterflies, get the hell out.

Felicity wondered when she had gained the ability to actually feel someone’s eyes on her. This was the super-aware phase of the crush - she had spent some time thinking on it. She had an overly-developed awareness of Oliver Queen, and thus she continued to convince herself he shared the same awareness.

She could only imagine what he was thinking. Maybe he was upset with he for letting Thea come here, maybe she really did have a pimple on her forehead that had grown an arm and was waving at him, maybe her glasses were doing the slightly crooked thing they had a tendency to do for which she had grown a wicked complex about since her ex-boyfriend had mentioned it. 

Whoever decided on the word “crush” had been wicked accurate.

Felicity wandered around.

It was late, Sin having gone home after their last customer had left, leaving something of the rock music genre playing on low volume in the background. The shop was big, bigger than it looked from the outside; it had several separate bays, each covered in drawings and sketches that were specific to each artist. It was impressive, from a creative point of view, and she had to marvel at the skill it took to draw with needles on someone’s skin.

Honestly, it was like magic.

“Magic, huh?”

Felicity yelped, spinning around, hand plastered to her chest to see Oliver standing right at her back. His hands were in his pant pockets, making his biceps do a ridiculously attractive bulging thing, and he was leaning around her to see what she was looking at. She didn’t realize she had painted herself into one of the corner bays where she had been staring at a selection of creepy troll drawings until she saw she had no exits except for the one behind Oliver.

Oliver had always been huge in that endearing man way of his, but now he really seemed to take up all the available space around her, in the room, in the building, in the city, in the freaking air molecules…

“Sorry. I didn’t meant to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay, I was just…” Felicity looked at the trolls. “Admiring.”

Oliver hummed noncommittally. “Those are Sebastian’s.”

“Oh,” Felicity said, nodding like she knew exactly who Sebastian was and exactly why he had chosen to draw the creepiest trolls ever.

“Were you thinking of getting one?” Oliver asked, his voice low and muted and Felicity shook her head.

“No. Well, yes, I was _thinking_ about it, but thinking about it and actually doing it are two very different things.” _Sort of like wondering how warm your hands are_. Felicity shut her mind down before she accidentally said anything out loud. Again.

Subject change.

“Do you have any?” she asked. “Tattoos?”

That was an honest question. She thought it was sort of assumed that when you invested your entire life into the art of tattooing other people, you sort of shared the same desire to have some yourself.

“A few.”

“Oh?” Felicity specifically didn’t look at him, staring at a half-naked mermaid. “Where?”

He paused and she looked back at him. A look she had never seen on his face before flitted over his features. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, you’re fine,” Oliver said. His voice said otherwise, but there was no edge to it. “On my back and shoulders.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ve never seen them. Not that I would have seen them, because that would mean I would have to see you shirtless, which I haven’t. I don’t even know where I’d go to see you shirtless - not that I would do that, I mean, go out of my way to find a way to see you shirtless. Not that you aren’t worthy of seeing shirtless, I’m really, really sure you are, but that’s kind of stalkery, right, and I’m not stalkery… and I am babbling about stalking you to see you shirtless, which I am going to stop in three, two, one…”

Oliver chuckled, and she was struck by the way the sound came out. He wasn’t embarrassed by her or annoyed with her; if she was willing to go so far, she would say he sounded… charmed.

Which was ridiculous. 

“Where would you get it?”

“What?”

“A tattoo.”

“Oh. Um… well, I thought about my…” Felicity involuntarily touched the very space she had thought about getting it - her left hipbone - and Oliver’s eyes followed her hand.

Her heart leapt into her throat. His eyes on her felt like a caress that was way too intimate and she was pretty sure she was imagining things when she saw his eyes flare, something dark crossing his face before it disappeared.

She swallowed. “My hip.”

Oliver hummed again, and Felicity’s traitorous mind let her eyes drop to his mouth - he had amazing lips, she could only imagine how they would feel against hers, how they would feel against her skin, pressing kisses, his tongue caressing the very spot she touched before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and started tugging them down…

Felicity forced herself to meet his eyes again, her face flushing at her thoughts, to find him staring at her.

The air was no longer air.

It was something tangible and really hard to inhale as they just looked at each other. 

“You know… I could still put something… there.” He rolled his eyes at the stilted sentence and it was her turn to feel charmed. She raised her eyebrows in question and he nodded to the bay in the farthest corner - his. “I have special pens I use for practice.”

What he was saying caught up to her and Felicity had to wonder how she didn’t just choke on her heart shoving itself up her chest. He wanted to… draw. On her.

“Oh.”

“They’re like permanent markers. It’ll last for a few days, but it will wash off. So you can see what it’s like.”

“You mean like… you’ll draw something on me?”

“If you want.”

She wanted to say yes. She really wanted to say yes, because the thought of him being any closer than he already was was a heady, heady thought. So much so that Felicity’s eyes flickered shut and she swallowed audibly.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Oliver replied softly, and everything inside Felicity deflated. He held his hand out for hers, and just as quickly all of her organs came back with a vengeance, her heart the worst of them all as she struggled to take a breath. “Come on.”

Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was moving and then it was in his. He pulled her along with him, the sound of Roy and Thea fading even more until there was nothing but the faint sound of buzzing and the low music coming from a speaker in the corner.

The lights weren’t dimmer, but Felicity felt like they were when he asked her to take her coat off, his fingers staying interlaced with hers for a second longer than necessary before he dropped them.

He pulled out some trays and removed a variety of weird looking pens. “What were you looking at getting?”

His voice was doing the thing. It was a thing, she was sure it was a thing. She shook her head to reorient herself. “Uh, I hadn’t really thought about it, actually.”

“Well, since this isn’t very permanent, you can pick anything you want.”

“Anything?”

Oliver smiled at her, a real smile, and her heart actually fluttered. “Anything.”

“Um… okay, well.” She looked around to avoid looking at him, but she saw nothing. She couldn’t see _anything_ around her - all her senses were focused on him. She knew she was seeing things, logically, but she wasn’t actually seeing them. It was like when she was reading, but her brain was fifty miles away, and she wasn’t processing anything.

She picked the first thing that popped into her head. “How about an arrow?”

Oliver’s eyes met hers, looking darker than they had a minute ago, and she bit her lip. His eyes dropped down to her mouth and she shivered, fighting the urge to step back and run away.

She had to be dreaming. This wasn’t real.

Oliver cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he said, touching her elbow and directing her to a tall table. “Hop up.”

She eyed the leather-covered table. “Hop up?”

“You want it on your hip, right?” he asked, the words coming out gritty and she wanted to say, ‘Nope, my arm is fine!’

Instead she nodded, and he nodded to the table. “Up.”

She hopped up, laying down awkwardly. She had to readjust her ponytail and shifted her t-shirt so it wasn’t crinkled painfully beneath her. He must have sensed she was nervous because he started talking. “Normally I’d have the table covered in plastic wrap, and I’d be wearing gloves to protect you from any cross-contamination and infection.” Oliver pulled up a stool and sat down, rolling it closer to her. “Since this is just a drawing, none of that is really necessary.”

“Well, that’s good.”

She wondered if it was actually possible to _hear_ someone smile. “So… hip?”

Felicity nodded. “Yep. Hip.”

He touched her waist through her shirt, above her jeans, and she inhaled sharply. “Here?” he asked, his voice low. 

For a very long time, she would look back on this very moment and wonder what had changed. It was like something possessed her for a split second and in that moment, changed the entire course of her life. She shook her head in response, clasping his hand - ignoring the fact that his hands were very, very warm and they felt very, very good against her cold fingers - and pushing it down until his were pressed to the tip of her pelvic bone.

It wasn’t something Felicity Smoak would have done. Not at all.

“Here.”

“Okay.” His fingers involuntarily closed around hers. “You’ll need to… unbutton.”

“What? Oh,” Felicity said, face flaming back to life. She hadn’t thought about that. She paused, mouth frozen open before she moved.

She lifted her shirt and unbuttoned her jeans.

Dear god, she was unbuttoning her jeans in front of Oliver Queen… and he was staring at the pens like they were the answer to all of life’s problems.

Felicity quickly unzipped and pushed the jeans to the side.

“Here,” Oliver said, and then he used those very warm hands to brush hers out of the way and fold her jeans in for her, tucking them into her bright orange panties - why had she worn _orange_ panties? - exposing the spot she had pointed. She took a stuttering breath when his fingers lingered on her skin for a second, brushing against her pelvis, and something suddenly clicked in her head when she realized where his fingers were and how close.

Heat erupted in her core, and she let out a short breathy gasp, biting her lip until it stung.

So not what this was about, brain, so not what this was about.

She didn’t realize he had stopped touching her until he said, “This will be a little cold,” and she jumped when a wet paper towel wiped the skin clean.

“Oh, very cold,” she said, her voice cracking and Oliver chuckled.

“Sorry.”

She didn’t trust herself to say another dang thing. Instead she closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax. He dried the spot off, his movements confident and at ease. Well, bravo for him that he was so comfortable right then, maybe he should give her some lessons in how to remain calm in a situation like this. Because right then? She was not calm.

“Ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

His hands were so warm - she could not get the image of his hands pushing her pants down out of her head - and they were very calloused she noticed, when he leaned forward, one hand covering her hip while the other started to draw. Felicity waited for a sharp pen to prick her, but it was nothing like that; it felt like a marker, just like he had said, and it glided across her skin smoothly.

She let out a little laugh after he finished the first line.

“You okay up there?” he asked her with a smile.

“It tickles,” she said.

He chuckled, and then all that was left was Oliver touching her, drawing on her.

After a few minutes the tension slid right out of her body and she let herself be lulled into a gentle state where nothing existed but his even breathing, his sure fingers holding her still, the gentle touch of the pen. What he was drawing wasn’t big or outrageous, but it felt intricate. She sighed once, her body relaxing further into the table, and he paused for a second before continuing. He switched pens twice, adding a few things here and there before he was done.

He blew on the drawing and she let out a soft, “Oh,” as goose bumps erupted across her stomach.

“All done,” he said gruffly, capping the open pen.

This was the moment she got up and went to see what he had drawn on her, to see what she would have to look forward to for the next few days - although he could draw any damn thing he wanted to and she would still love it because Oliver had done it, because holy crap, Oliver had just drawn on her - but neither of them moved.

One hand was still on her hip, and his other hand gently rested across her stomach - and god, if her heart hadn’t stuttered before, it was definitely past racing now - his thumb rubbing across the drawing. Every single nerve he touched was a direct line to her center and a wave of heat trampled through her abdomen.

“It’s dry,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing over it again and she inhaled quickly, waiting for something else… but instead Oliver sighed so quietly she barely heard it and then his hands were gone.

Disappointment whipped through her so fast and strong it took her breath away.

“Here,” he said, offering his hand and she grasped it, letting him pull her up. His other hand landed on her back to steady her.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up at him.

When their eyes met, electricity sizzled the air. He was so close, he was right there, and he wasn’t moving, and how could her lungs simultaneously feel like they were full of concrete and full of so much air at the same time it was making her dizzy? His hand on her back slid up.

“Felicity,” he whispered, spreading her name out so he hit each syllable.

“Yeah?” she whispered back, stupidly. He grinned, barely shaking his head and squeezed her hand in his.

She didn’t know how her other hand had found its way to his chest, but she went with it; heck, she went with all of it even though the intensity surging between them was borderline too much. How could he be everywhere at the same time? Surrounding her, embracing her - it was like all those moments she had fought so hard to avoid, only this was about a hundred times more powerful.

She grasped the sweater she had admired so much into a tight fist.

She wanted to kiss him. She really, really wanted to. She had thought about it more than she should have, more than she wanted to admit to. But this was Oliver Queen - he didn’t kiss girls like her. 

Felicity opened her mouth to say just that when his lips slanted over hers, the kiss so soft and gentle it hurt her chest.

When romance novels describe how time stops when you kiss that special someone, Felicity always rolled her eyes. It was actually why she stopped reading them, it was illogical. 

She was an idiot.

Oliver groaned, pulling her in closer and she let out a strangled sound of surrender, their clasped fingers holding on to each other as tightly as they dared. He yanked her towards him, a deep growling sound coming from his chest that she felt reverberate through hers, sending another wave of heat soaring straight for her core as their lips moved against each other. His hand snuck up to the back of her neck, cupping it, angling her head so he could go deeper and she moaned against him, pressing her chest closer to his, trying to mold her body to him.

He felt amazing. He felt more than amazing. He was hard and soft at the same time, rough and gentle, powerful and calm.

She was kissing Oliver. He was kissing her. He was really kissing her, like she was a glass of water and he hadn’t had any in days. No, longer than that.

The kiss became harder, his movements harsher and uncoordinated in their rush to bring her closer to him and she went with him willingly, gripping the back of his neck, pulling herself closer.

He moaned, his hand moving up into her hair, dislodging her ponytail. His thumb brushed the shell of her ear and she whimpered as a shiver slithered down her spine.

“Oliver?”

The sound of Roy’s voice popped the bubble and they broke apart at the same time.

They both panted, staring at the other, when Thea followed suit, “Felicity? Where’d you go?”

“Oh,” Felicity breathed, realizing just where she was and who she was with and holy god, she was kissing her best friend’s brother.

She pulled back just as he did, and she saw his face shutter up, going blank on her as he stepped back, giving her room to hop off the table. She didn’t have time to think about what had just happened or why he was looking at her like that when she quickly readjusted her pants - she had been kissing Oliver Queen with _her pants undone_ , what had her life just become? - when Roy appeared.

His eyebrows shot up - Oliver’s lips were bruised and puffy and she could only imagine what his stubble had done to her face besides feeling really, really good while it had been happening - and the blush was back, but he didn’t say anything when Oliver sent him a death glare.

“Hey, man, Diggle’s here,” he said, his voice way more serious than the current situation afforded.

“Yeah, alright,” Oliver said. “I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Roy said, a glib smile tugging at his lips before he disappeared, hopefully to intercept Thea.

Oliver turned, quickly cleaning up the space with short, efficient movements. Felicity tugged her shirt back into place, forgetting that he had just drawn an arrow on her in what had to be the most erotic thing to happen to her, ever.

And that kiss.

“I have to go,” Oliver said, handing her her jacket.

“Okay.”

He hesitated. “Can I…”

Felicity looked up at him. “Yes,” she answered before he could continue and he laughed.

“Oliver, let’s go!” a voice she didn’t recognize shouted from the front and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m coming!” he shouted back.

Oliver grabbed her hand, giving it a quick squeeze, and instead of finishing his question, he pulled her in for a short but way intense kiss that had her toes tingling. He pulled back, leaving both of them breathless, his fingers lacing with hers.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long while,” he said with a small, almost sad smile, and her heart stuttered. His eyes sparkled with emotions she couldn’t even try to name; he definitely didn’t look like he regretted anything, which was good, but there was a darkness she couldn’t grasp.

Who was Oliver Queen, and what was he doing to her?

He traced a finger across her cheek, pushing her glasses further up her nose before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

And then he was gone.

She left the shop in a daze, Thea smiling knowingly when she saw Felicity’s rumpled state but thankfully didn’t push it. She chatted happily about her new tattoo, but mostly about Roy, and Felicity vaguely remembered her going into explicit detail about Roy’s cheekbones.

Felicity barely remembered getting back to her apartment, barely remembered removing her clothes. The next thing she was aware of was being in her bathroom, touching her lips in amazement, wondering what had happened, how it had happened, and what happened next.

And when she looked in the mirror, she saw what he had drawn on her.

It was a delicate arrow, with a detailed shaft that ended in an elegant curl, interlaced with intricate detail and an arrowhead pointing up towards her heart.

It was green.

She didn’t think about all the questions she still had about him, she didn’t think about where he had run off to that night. She would think about all that later. Much, much later.

Until then…

Her finger traced the drawing.

Her arrow.

The End


	2. Too Early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She was trying. He could tell she was trying, but she wasn’t doing a very good job. Her idea of whisper-singing was not the same as, well, whispering.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the last installment blew me away. Every single kudos, comment, favorite, follow, etc. makes my world, thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy what I have in store for these two, I have a lot of short stories planned (including an eventual sequel to “Arrow”).
> 
> Btw, I upped this collection’s rating to Mature because this one got away from me - it is literally impossible for me to not write smut somewhere. I’m steering away from Explicit because sex is not the motivation for any of these stories, but I don’t hold back when the time comes (and I still held back in this one). If you think it’s past Mature? Please let me know! 
> 
> I am dust2dust34 on Tumblr, for those who wondered, and if you have any ideas or prompts you’d like me to tackle, I will gladly consider them. My muse is pretty fickle, I can’t make guarantees - if I can’t work something into a stand-alone story, I’ll definitely save it for future use.

She was trying. He could tell she was trying, but she wasn’t doing a very good job. Her idea of whisper-singing was not the same as, well, whispering.

“Meet me where your mind won’t kiss me… Flick your eyes and mine and then hit me…”

He couldn’t help himself.

He smiled.

“Hit me with your eyes so sweetly.”

The smile morphed into a full-blown grin.

They had been seeing each other for well over a year now, this stupid crap shouldn’t make him smile as much as it did. It was both the most endearing and most annoying power that she held over him - he should be annoyed with her, getting up and telling her to one, get out of the shower and back into bed, two, get the hell out of the shower and back into bed, and three, please stop singing until he’d had at least two cups of coffee.

But he wasn’t. God help him, he was happy. He wanted her to keep going, to never stop, to always wake up on the south end of no sleep and be happy enough to get up and shower and _sing while doing it._

That she was happy enough to do it at all made him groan at the sappy warmth filling his chest. He loved her so much it was a miracle his heart didn’t climb right out of his chest and shove itself into her hands like a grotesque pocket sleeve. 

“Oh, you know, you know, you know, that yes, I love…”

Her voice floated out to meet him through the closed bathroom door, still evident over the rush of water colliding with porcelain. He heard the gentle squeak of her foot as she moved, the tiny whistle from her shampoo bottle followed by a thud when she set it down and the water hitting the walls at different angles when she moved.

She was dancing.

In the shower.

“I mean I’d love to get to know you…”

It had been a long night. There was a new drug on the streets, some new players starting a weird anarchist movement in the Glades somewhere and Digg had told them Argus was talking about new reports of a compromised transport near Starling that was - or had been - full of weapons that shot barbs full of poison.

It had been a night of frustration and anger, one of the rare ones where the full scope of his city and his inability to keep it all fully protected caught up with him.

They hadn’t gone to bed less than three hours ago, and they had seriously talked about not going into work today, but there she was, up at - he arched his head to squint blearily at the alarm clock – 6:36 in the damn morning.

“Do you ever wonder… No, no, no, no, you girls never know. Oh no, you girls’ll never know…”

She continued through the chorus, and Oliver was rolling out of bed before he could think about it. He followed her voice, shoving his boxers down his hips, stepping out of them when he reached the bathroom. He scrubbed his face, blinking himself more awake, lips tugging up in another smile as she continued singing to herself.

He opened the door silently, moving into the steamy room before too much cold air could come with him and closed it behind him. He leaned back against it, just listening to her, letting her light voice erase the night they had had.

The tenseness in his shoulders and lack of rest coupled with his “self-masochistic grumpy anger,” as Felicity called it, slipped away, the shower steam and her voice wrapping around him.

The only reason he’d made it this far and this long was because of her - because of her support on the team, absolutely, but more because of this very thing right here. She was a literal ray of sunlight in his life, and she loved _him_. For some insane, almost unfathomable reason, she had chosen him. She had gifted him with her heart and her love and because of that, his entire world had blossomed.

She was the reason he was able to get up in the morning and still have hope. She was the reason he kept going without collapsing under the weight of expectation and insanity. She helped him shoulder the immense burden of the city that he carried everywhere he went, that they all shared in equal part, but if anyone were to sit down and ask him, he would say she carried the most, because she helped him with his part with as much vehemence as she did her own.

She was his compass, the light that guided him, that reminded him that he could do this after all, that he wasn’t going to fail. 

The reason for his continued existence was singing and dancing in the shower, belting out lyrics in not-very-quiet whispers and he smiled.

God, he loved her.

“You girls never know, oh no, you girls’ll never know, no, you girls never know, how you make a boy feeeeelll…”

Oliver crept up to the shower, tugging back the curtain just enough to peek in on her.

Her eyes were closed as she sang. She was in the middle of rinsing shampoo from her hair, suds cascading down her body in heavy rivulets, slipping between her breasts and down her stomach, rushing across her hips and down her thighs. Oliver licked his lips, watching her with hooded eyes as she moved, dancing in time with the music only she could hear.

Her body swayed. She rinsed her hair in rhythm with her singing, her breasts bouncing and hips ticking from side to side…

He had never lacked for sex drive. He liked sex - a lot - and he was always ready to go whenever the opportunity arose. It was the guiding force in his life and how he had lived it before the Gambit had gone down, and he definitely hadn’t lacked for partners when he’d come back.

That is, until Felicity.

If he’d thought he’d been insatiable before, he was very, very wrong.

Everything about her spoke to him on a cellular level - they were magnets, and he was completely unable - and unwilling - to ignore it. She just had to look at him in that certain way that was reserved for him and him alone, or blush that bright red that left her skin pink for a few minutes after, reminding him just how far that blush went down.

He couldn’t stand going longer than a day without having her in some way - whether that was her bent over her desk in the foundry, or on the washing machine when she was wandering around looking for a specific blouse in only a skirt and bra, or when he’d slipped his hand up said skirt and had his fingers buried inside her against the wall of the executive elevator at QC. He still had yet to live that down because she’d nearly had a panic attack afterwards wondering if she’d cut off those cameras going to the downstairs desk or not, to which he always cheekily replied she hadn’t cared much at the time.

And then she glared at him, and she blushed, and it started all over.

He always wanted her.

And they’d been too tired to do anything when they’d got home a few hours ago.

“You girls never know, oh no, you girls’ll never know, no you girls never know…”

She turned and rinsed her face, still whispering the lyrics into the water, giving him a very generous view of her ample ass. 

“How you make a boy feel… how you make a boy…”

And then she did a little shimmy, and he was done for.

Oliver pulled the curtain back and said, his voice rough with lack of sleep and early-morning arousal, “I think I can lend my opinion on that.”

A startled squeak erupted from her as she spun to face him with wide eyes - she’d collapsed right into bed last night, barely removing any clothes or makeup, and there were black mascara smudges still all around her eyes that made her look sexier than hell.

Her hand flew to her chest, and she nearly slipped face-first into the wall.

Oliver’s arm around her waist caught her before she went anywhere and she scrambled against him for purchase.

“Oh my god, you scared me,” she breathed.

“Sorry,” he rumbled gruffly, pulling her flush against him. She was warm and slick and he wrapped his arms around her. He hummed her name, rubbing against her like he was a damn cat. The combination of the overexertion last night, an entire lack of sleep, and being in the warm shower with the woman he loved was having a very lazing effect on him.

On his mind at least. Other parts of him were very awake.

She held onto his shoulders as he bent down to press his face to the crook of her neck.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” His hips moved against her of their own volition and she let out an involuntary giggle. “Well _somebody_ is definitely awake.”

“Mmm,” he moaned against her. “You smell good.”

She chuckled, and he shook his head, wondering how she was so damn perky.

He slipped one hand down to curve around her ass, kneading it as he pulled her closer, making her gasp.

“Too early,” he mumbled into her neck.

“Yes, it is,” she said, nodding in agreement. “Which is why I…”

Her words faded away when his hand continued moving, sliding down her thigh until he hooked her knee and lifted it so it was hitched over his hip, leaving her open to him. She gave him a tremulous breath, her nails digging into his neck muscles as she lifted herself onto her toes to match his height. He responded by rubbing his beard against the delicate skin of her neck and she arched her head back to give him more access, mewling under his ministrations, making every inch of him tighten in anticipation.

Oliver picked her up and pushed her against the wall.

“Oooh, cold,” she gasped and he grunted another apology, his mind growing fuzzier and incapable of thinking of anything past the fact that she was in his arms, warm and alive and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, eager and open for him to do anything he wanted to her, and everything was right with the world for these few minutes.

Oliver slid her higher up the wall, water beating against their sides, and her legs wrapped around his waist. He leaned forward, nuzzling his face between her breasts and she pulled her legs tighter, pulling him closer to her as she pressed her face to the crown of his head. His erection slid in the wetness between her legs, gliding across her center, making her hips jerk forward with a sharp moan.

He didn’t waste a second, finding her entrance and he pressed into her, sliding her down the wall simultaneously. Felicity’s mouth hung open in a breathy gasp, and he leaned forward, his lips dancing across her neck, his nose ghosting over her pulse point.

She moved to find his lips the same time he did.

The kiss was sloppy and disjointed and perfect.

Keeping her anchored to the wall, Oliver hooked his arms under her legs, pressing them up so she was cradled between him and the cold tile. The new angle had them both gasping as he pulled out slowly, making her whine, before thrusting in to the hilt.

“Felicity,” Oliver hissed through clenched teeth, and she scraped her nails across his scalp. He smashed his lips against hers again, pulling out and thrusting back in with ardor. She moaned and broke the kiss to gasp for air when he angled his hips to hit her clit, rubbing against her in short, hard circles, her silken walls clamping around him. He groaned her name, moving faster.

“Oh god,” she gasped, her fingers digging into him painfully as he pushed her further, the only thing that existed in his world being her, pleasing her, only her. “Oliver, Oliver, don’t… don’t stop…”

Oliver pressed one leg higher, a choked sound escaping her throat, and his fingers found one of her nipples. His thumb brushed across the hard nubbin. And then he pinched it.

She came apart in his arms, coming with a loud cry that echoed through the small bathroom. It melted into a long moan as she pulled him closer, cradling him to her.

Oliver pressed his forehead to hers, going willingly into her arms, his hips moving faster, chasing his own end, and it came on him without warning, a hot tingling in the base of his spine that exploded through him with a raspy shout of her name. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he felt the first spark of awareness.

He was suddenly very aware that they were still in the shower, and that the water hitting the porcelain was very loud. It was still warm, crashing against his side unpleasantly, his skin feeling way too sensitive. He rested on her shoulder, his face turned into her neck, Felicity’s fingers carding through his hair.

He still had her pushed up against the wall where she was making tiny noises of bliss.

Oliver mumbled something unintelligible.

“Mmm, morning,” Felicity whispered, pressing her face to his temple and he sighed, not moving.

“Too early,” he grumbled, his eyes sliding shut. He was exhausted, but he was fairly certain he could hold her just like this, pressed against the wall with her legs hiked over his arms, still buried inside her, and be perfectly content.

Felicity gave him a, “Mmhmm,” in response.

“Can we go back to bed?” he asked, pressing his lips up until he found her earlobe, which he took between his teeth. She gasped his name, and her walls clamped down around his half-hard cock, making him groan, and he pressed her further into the wall, trying to get closer to her.

“Yes. Bed. Bed is good. I’m a very big advocate of bed and all the wonderful things that come with it.”

Oliver grunted something resembling words again and picked her up, turning the water off. 

They didn’t make it to work that day.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are No You Girls by Franz Ferdinand. It was on Spotify while I was showering the other day, sparking this little thing - although I unfortunately didn’t get the naked Oliver part. Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	3. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future fic. It’s 2046 and today is her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another one that got long on me, they all won’t be this ridiculously long.
> 
> I’m officially working on a complete multi-chapter story for the tattoo ficlet! I was going to do snippets from the plot idea I had, but I didn’t think that would be satisfactory enough. It will be called “Dotted Lines.” Once I have a few more chapters drafted and edited, I’ll start posting it.
> 
> In the meantime, I have a few more ficlets for this collection that I’ll be posting as they get edited. Thank you for the kudos, reviews, favorites and follows, everyone!

“Where in the hell have you been?”

The voice thundered from the corner of the little shop, making every single person inside stop dead in their tracks. It looked like someone had pressed the Pause button… or everyone had just been caught shoving stolen coffee beans in their pants.

A sea of heads immediately glanced at the tiny woman the voice had come out of - and it _was_ a shocking sound, because she was a waif of a thing, tall and willowy with long silver hair to match, she didn’t seem to have enough neck to hold such an impressive voice box - before turning to see who the ire was aimed at.

Felicity Queen stopped dead in her tracks.

The door swished closed behind her with the telltale tinkle of the bell over the door and a frosty gust of wind that swooped across her bare legs and up her skirt, making her clench her legs together in a shiver. She didn’t move save to blink snow out of her eyes, flinching when a trickle of melted ice slipped from her hat onto her bare neck. 

Sharon, her favorite barista and cranky surrogate mother - as Oliver had lovingly started to call her during their first vacation in Aspen - dropped the cup of coffee she was working on and walked out from behind the coffee bar.

Her “kids” Kelcy and Max barely batted an eye. Max immediately stepped up to finish the coffee, barely glancing at the writing on the cup, having an almost preternatural understanding of where Sharon had left off while Kelcy smoothly took the order for the next person in line, not a single ounce of worry on her face despite the line being nearly out the door.

It was classic Sharon; it had been for all of the twelve years Felicity had been coming to The Pump and Grind.

She’d gotten closer to the wizened old woman when she and Oliver had started coming to Colorado more often, spending more and more time in the small condo he and Thea had inherited from some long lost cousin of Robert’s - really, Felicity had teased, two of the richest people in the world were the ones who got random huge generous gifts from long-lost relatives? Sharon looked the exact same as she did then. Under the words ‘freakish’ and ‘energy’ in the dictionary, her picture was right there; she had to be going on 90 now, but she moved and acted like she was 25. Felicity was fairly certain the woman was going to outlive everyone.

The smile on Sharon’s face was blinding as she stepped up and cupped Felicity’s face. “Happy birthday, my beautiful chinchilla.”

“You are the only person I let get away comparing me to a cutesy rat,” Felicity said. Sharon let out her signature hoot of laughter. 

“They aren’t rats, goodness, don’t you pay attention to anything I say?” Sharon replied before giving her a stern look, shaking her face as she spoke, “You were supposed to come in this morning.”

Felicity smiled tiredly, her lips not used to the sensation. “I know. Investors teleconference. Madeline threatened my life.”

Sharon tsked. “That’s what daughters are for. Come on, come on, get inside where it’s warm.”

She wrapped an arm around Felicity’s shoulders, towing her into the crowded shop, ever unmindful of the cold starting to melt on Felicity’s jacket. The woman looked like a gust of wind would blow her away, but did she feel an ounce of cold? Ha. Whereas Felicity was left wondering why she hadn’t at least worn tights. It wasn’t supposed to snow, for one, and two, this was her favorite skirt - it was black with splashes of bold-colored surrealistic flowers. It was meant for the chic boots and bare skin she was sporting, which she was extremely excited to still be able to sport in the first place.

One thing the girls should be excited about was getting good leg genes.

The weather didn’t agree though, as she had learned was often the case when the tail end of Spring made its way through the Rocky Mountains.

“Are you staying?”

“No, I can’t. Just need my fix, I was up way too early.”

“Big plans tonight? Are the girls in town?” Sharon asked, pushing Felicity up to the bar and stepping back behind it.

“No, no, I wouldn’t let them.”

Sharon made a disapproving ticking noise with her tongue as she started making Felicity’s coffee.

The woman was a master business owner.

She had first bought the land in the early 80’s and had stayed ahead of the coffee curve with her unique personality and even more unique coffee drinks. She was Starbucks before Starbucks was Starbucks - and amazingly stuck around when the custom coffee fad died out. She maintained the small-town charm with her business etiquette and refusing to make any ‘foolish robot changes’ to the shop. She was the only business in town that hadn’t installed a computerized, well, anything. You could press a button and not have to talk to anyone for a decent cup of coffee a few blocks from her door, but that didn’t mean jack to Sharon, or her profits - they hadn’t seen a dent in decades.

Felicity could still only watch in abject wonder at how she and her team moved with each other - it was an intricate ballet; one person twisting this way while another turned that way and the other leaned over both of them to put syrup in a cup, all handling equal loads of the job.

“But they are coming in a few weeks though - together,” Felicity added, watching Sharon’s face brighten even more.

Donna Smoak was the epitome of a spoiling and crazed grandmother, and Sharon only added to the pile whenever Madeline and Emma came around. They’d made the official move to Aspen after the girls had both gone off to college - well, when Madeline had gone off to college. Emma had chosen a slightly more eclectic path, much to the chagrin of her father. If Sharon was Felicity’s other crazy mom, she was definitely their daughters’ crazy other grandmother.

“Oh good! You know I still have that necklace I found when I was visiting your mom - it’s perfect for Emma, just perfect. So then, what’s on the agenda for tonight? I better hear something more exciting than ‘tech this and tech that and some red wine’ because I’ll have to boycott.”

“Well,” Felicity started, feeling bashful as she stared at her dark mocha nails.

“Ooh, I know that face,” Kelcy interjected and Felicity blushed.

“I do actually have a date night planned.”

Just saying the words perked her up, and this time when she smiled it felt good.

Very good.

“Oh goodness me, I can’t remember the last time I went on a proper date,” Sharon said wistfully. She handed Felicity her cup. Felicity immediately wrapped both hands around the warmth and took a sip as Sharon stage-whispered, “The last time my nethers saw any action was when people still had cords on their phones.”

Felicity snorted into her coffee. 

“Oh god, Sharon, I’m standing right here,” Max moaned and Sharon let another loud hoot of laughter.

“Well good, that’s very good, my lovely girl, I’m happy to hear that,” Sharon said, leaning across the bar to grab Felicity’s hand, squeezing it lovingly. “I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

*

The flicker of candlelight was the first thing she noticed when she paused at the top of the stairs.

Her heart suddenly felt way too big for her chest as she paused, thinking about what was waiting for her.

She gripped the scarred bannister, the sturdy wood reassuring under her palm. She touched it every single day, going up and down, up and down these steps, and this moment wasn’t really any different than any other time before, but right now it was the strongest thing within reach and she siphoned some of its strength.

She was going to need it.

It had been over five years since she had seen him. Five long years… that she really didn’t need to be remembering right now.

This was an important night, a special night, and she wasn’t going to taint it with memories that were better left in the dark.

Felicity made her way down the steps. He must have heard her coming because she heard the metallic chink of a holder hitting the coffee table followed by the lighter he’d used to create the forest of candles he’d laid over almost every available surface.

She saw his large shadow on the wall before she saw him, and she gripped the bannister again, pausing, her lungs expelling every last inch of air in anticipation.

It had been so long, what if…

Felicity shut down the thought before it could grow, knowing she was about three seconds from talking herself out of this.

She had come this far. She was going to do this.

She stepped down the rest of the way.

And stopped breathing.

Her chest tightened, her nails digging into the wood under her hand while the other made half-moon marks in her palm as he moved to greet her.

He was even more beautiful than she remembered.

He was slightly more weathered, laugh lines more plentiful around his mouth and eyes, and there was a new spattering of silver in his hair that hadn’t been there before. He still kept the stubble though, and when it caught the light the right way, she saw it hadn’t changed at all.

“Hey,” Oliver said, his voice soft - it was the voice he only used with her, the soft growly voice that never once ceased to make her heart pick up a little bit and her stomach clench.

She let out a silent laugh of incredulity; it had been so long since he’d used it.

It almost sounded foreign.

She swallowed past the burning lump in her throat, wanting to do the casual glance-around-like-it-was-any-other-day thing, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Hey,” she finally replied, her voice cracking. “It’s been a while.”

He chuckled, a wide grin splitting his face. It was the smile that used to make her palms sweaty - and hey, it still did, she noticed, wiping her free hand against her side. Her arms and legs were oddly tingly, like all her nerves were hyperaware of the fact that he was _right there._

Like her nerves really needed to tell her - she may be old, but she wasn’t that old, her eyes still worked. How could the man still make her feel like they were just meeting, like everything was new and exciting, fresh and still untraveled … like she was just a giddy twenty-something and a seriously cute, mysterious man was in her office, telling her the stupidest lie she’d ever heard…

He nodded, pursing his lips in response to the brevity of her words.

“Yeah.” His fingers moved in the familiar nervous tic of his, his forefinger rubbing against his thumb. “It has been.”

There was more, she knew there was so much more that needed to be said, that she needed to say and needed to hear, but the words completely escaped her. If there wasn’t talking, there should at least be moving - something being done - but neither of them did anything but stare at each other.

“I’ve missed you,” he finally whispered, and the burning lump in her throat forced its way up, tears blurring her vision.

Felicity nodded briskly, licking her dry lips. “I miss you,” she said, so softly she barely heard herself. “So much.”

His face - bravely stoic and controlled - broke and he took two long strides towards her the same time she finally let go of the bannister, starting for him, and he was there to capture her, sweeping her up in his arms.

She let out a broken gasp, her arms wrapping around him when he lifted her off her feet and just held her.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply, making her shudder as his familiar scent washed over her in turn. His hair was the same, cut short, and she ran her nails across his scalp as she cradled him to her.

She pressed her lips to his temple, but once wasn’t enough. She kissed him over and over, little pecks that were so small but so significant, and her breath hitched when his lips pressed to her neck, his stubble tickling her in ways it hadn’t since when they’d first started making out like teenagers on her couch all those years ago.

That was so long ago, but it still felt like yesterday.

He’d seemingly come back from the dead, from his battle with Ra’s Al Ghul, and with a new purpose in life - a new desire for life - but they hadn’t been on the same page; she’d thought they’d never get in the same book, much less the same page of anything. It had taken them more than a year before the tension between them finally snapped.

And then she’d known what it was like to be able to kiss Oliver Queen whenever she wanted, to hold his hand, to smile when his fingers grazed her bare shoulders, to make out like lunatics for no reason other than they wanted to, to wake up next to him, to greet the world with a happy grin because the man she loved with all her being loved her back.

She choked out his name, her heart swelling, and he pulled back just enough to capture her lips with his.

Felicity felt like everything that had been broken inside her came together while at the same time it all shattered to pieces again.

He overwhelmed her - it was almost too much; it had been too long.

She moaned against him, holding on tighter.

He was familiar and new all at the same time; it had been so long, but they still remembered, remembered what the other felt like, how the other moved and acted and reacted. It was the confidence that came from spending years getting to know the other person in all the ways that they could; it wasn’t something that just disappeared.

She felt his hand at her waist twisting her dress between his fingers, his other hand smoothed up her back until it delved into her hair, pressing her mouth closer to his.

The kiss was years of pent up frustration and longing and loss and pain all rolled into one and before Felicity knew what was happening, he stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the coffee table before his knees collided with the couch. She used his shoulders for leverage and hiked a leg over his hip, making a needy growl tremble through his chest, and he lowered her down to the cushions.

He broke away from her long enough to reach between them and press her dress out of the way before he draped his body over hers again, lips colliding, one hand cradling her cheek, the other sliding against her outer thigh, heat and need churning within her as his calloused fingers traced a tantalizing pattern, moving up until they reached her hip, hooking in the band of her panties.

Felicity keened, scraping her nails over his scalp. He groaned, his hips thrusting against her, pressing her deeper into the couch cushions and she wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring him to her.

She slid her hand under the collars of his sweater and t-shirt, her fingers roving over the scars across his upper back while his slipped underneath her, cupping her ass and pressing her harder against him. She gasped when the heavy bulge pressing against the seam of his jeans pressed directly against her center in perfectly placed circles that instantly had fire whipping through her veins.

It had been too long, too many years of nothing but the cold embrace of empty sheets, and Felicity whimpered when his hips moved faster, pushing the sudden need higher and higher…

She broke away, sucking in a harsh breath, gasping his name… 

Oliver groaned and stopped, pulling back. She didn’t let him go far, keeping her arms wrapped around him as she sucked in air, her chest hurting from having to catch up on her oxygen intake.

“What is it?” she breathed. She blinked up at him, their breathing harsh and uneven. His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration. Her hands came around to cup his face, one brushing up over his forehead in a caress while the other touched his bruised lips.

The effortless smile he gave her made her feel like she was floating.

He extracted his hand from underneath her - much to her rabid disappointment - and he hovered over her, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I had plans for tonight.”

“Oh. Plans,” Felicity said. “Well, plans are great, but this…” She hitched her legs higher and pressed herself against him. He groaned her name, his hips involuntarily thrusting to meet hers, making her gasp. “Is so much nicer.”

“Plans,” Oliver said through clenched teeth. “I had plans.”

That didn’t stop him from pressing his lips to hers again in a searing kiss, and she felt every inch of her ache with need when he hugged her closer.

And then with a concentrated force of will, he pulled himself back again and stood up, reaching down to pull her to her feet within the same breath.

He set her down, her dress falling back to proper levels.

“I had plans,” he said, readjusting her dress straps. “To woo you.”

“You don’t need to woo me,” she said, biting her bottom lip to keep a giggle at bay.

His grin was back and he shook his head minutely, his hands brushing over her shoulders reverently, down her arms and back up until he was cupping her face between his large hands.

“Yes,” he said softly, leaning closer. “I do.”

This kiss was the complete opposite of the desperation from a few minutes ago - it was gentle and tender, so full of love she felt it resonating in her bones.

If there was ever a doubt in her mind that he loved her, she knew that this right here completely erased it in the blink of an eye.

*

“It’s your Pretty Woman fetish!”

“This is _not_ my fetish,” he replied, unable to keep from smiling himself as he dipped a strawberry in the cream and held it up.

She giggled, shaking her head, unable to even pretend to look at it. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. You even got the champagne!”

“And I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, her stomach hurting from laughing so hard as she wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m laughing with you.”

“Oh, right,” Oliver said thoughtfully, a tiny smile on his lips.

He suddenly leaned forward and smeared the cream-covered strawberry all over her cheek, making her yelp in surprise.

His tiny smile broke into an infectious grin and he laughed freely when she gave him an outraged look and swatted his arm, which he dodged perfectly.

“That was so uncalled for,” she said, grabbing her napkin, wiping her face when he leaned over, batting her hand out of the way.

“Come here.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’m…” His tongue snuck out to lick away the remnants of cream. “Sorry.” He pressed his lips to hers.

She sighed, melting against him…

When he leaned over further, tilting his chair to get closer to her, she wrapped an arm around his neck, opening her mouth to his… and she dipped her finger in the bowl of cream and returned the favor, smearing it across his cheek and nose.

He froze, mouth hanging open, and she laughed so hard she snorted.

“You’re ruining my date night,” he said between chuckles and she tried to apologize, but couldn’t get the word out.

Until he sucked her finger into his mouth to clean the cream off.

A rush of heat swept through her, hard and fast, and she nearly came apart at the seams when his tongue swirled around it, his eyes locked on hers.

*

She knew what he was doing.

And she had to admit… it was working.

He was recreating all their stupid first date moments.

From the botched first date - technically the second date, but they had stopped referring to the whole ‘got bombed on their first date’ thing the minute they decided to try again because they hadn’t even gotten their drinks yet, it didn’t count; the rules said so - where a romantic moment had been ruined because she couldn’t stop giggling over strawberries and champagne he’d brought out, to when he’d come down with the flu.

All those late nights in that cold foundry had finally caught up with him. She’d already had it three times since she’d started working with him and had started to wonder if he was some genetic freak because he never got sick.

When she’d refused to leave him, it had led to a thrilling game of Scrabble.

And one day later, she’d gotten the flu. Again.

“You’re letting me win.”

Felicity smiled. “No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.” He perused his letters. “You, Mrs. Queen, seem to think I’m an idiot.”

She scoffed. “I do not.”

Oliver snorted, waving at the board between them. “You’ve hacked into government agencies, hotwired bombs, and put a dancing panda on all the televisions in that Hong Kong airport to get Emma to stop crying when she was sick… and the best you’re coming up with right now is ‘yams.’” 

“You just kicked my ass with ‘cybernetics,’ Mr. Queen, I think you’re doing just fine.”

“If I find out you’re letting me win…”

She grinned at him coquettishly, cocking her head. “What? What will Mr. Scary Arrow do to little ol’ me?”

He looked up at her under hooded eyes as he leaned over, placing more tiles on the board.

She shivered, his blue eyes darkening to a deep cobalt as he said in a throaty voice, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

*

Hot water sluiced across the dishes in the sink, rinsing the remnant food off. She set them in the other half of the sink to go into the dishwasher.

She heard him coming in behind her, carrying the last of the dishes from the dinner he’d cooked for them - the universe had been almost too kind when creating him because he could shoot arrows with alarming preciseness - with his eyes closed and riding a unicycle - and he could cook his amazing secret-recipe chili.

It wasn’t just the chili - he always made it into a full five-course ordeal.

It was so good it rivaled the Green Arrow’s archery abilities. 

It was _that_ good.

Oliver hummed behind her, making her smile, setting the dirty dishes on the counter. She opened her mouth to tell him he better not just leave them there when he wrapped his arms around her waist, molding his back to her chest.

He anchored his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling his face into her neck. She felt him smile where he pressed against her, and she leaned back against him, closing her eyes.

Happiness was a gentle warm glow in her chest.

He peppered light kisses along her neck, ignoring the dishes, and she shivered.

“Those go in the dishwasher, you know,” she said.

“Mmhmm,” he murmured, leaning forward and turning the water off. He pressed a kiss just under her ear, and she inhaled sharply, a tremble falling down her spine. He pressed a chaste path across her jaw and down her neck, his fingers pushing the strap of her dress off her shoulder. “Later.”

“It’ll be like… concrete,” she said unconvincingly and his lips followed the path of his fingers as he pushed her dress further down, the material hooking on her breast. His hand moved further down her hip, pulling her dress up and she reached behind her, gripping his thighs, clenching his jeans to pull him closer as she pressed her ass into him.

His hand around her waist yanked her closer, his fingers digging into her abdomen. 

“It’ll be hard to clean later,” she continued, her voice breathless. “They should at least soak.”

“I don’t care,” he growled, and he spun her, lifting her easily and setting her up on the sink, pressing himself between her open thighs. She groaned her acquiescence and wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing her feet to his ass as he dragged her off the edge of the counter, his hands shoving her dress up, pressing himself against her through her thin panties.

She moaned his name, her head falling back when he rubbed against her, his hands gripping her ass hard enough to leave bruises. His lips found her collarbone, dancing across it and over her shoulder. She whined his name again as he barely grazed her, leaving goose bumps in his wake as he dragged them up her neck, his teeth nipping at her chin.

She moaned again and turned to meet him, his mouth swallowing the rest of it as she opened for him.

He was a combination of spices, wine, strawberries and Oliver.

God, she had missed him.

He wrapped a hand around her hips, his other sliding up and into her hair. He loved her hair. His hands were always buried in it, mussing it to hell, playing with the strands, running his fingers through them. It never failed to make her shiver, especially when his large palm cupped her neck, his thumb dragging across her pulse point and she arched against him, seeking more.

“Bed?” he rasped against her lips and she shook her head.

“Too far.”

He grunted in agreement and then picked her up, spinning them to the kitchen island. A plastic bowl and napkin dispenser clattered to the floor when he set her down roughly, but neither noticed. She reached down, yanking his shirt up, her fingers drifting across his flat stomach, still so well-defined after all these years. The thought of his skin touching hers, of being near him again, feeling those muscles twitch under her fingers, straining against her, had her body weeping with need and she whimpered, tugging his shirt up until he pulled back and ripped it off, throwing it away somewhere.

Their kisses were demanding - taking and giving in equal measure. He lifted her further up on the island with ease, shoving her dress up and she squeaked in shock when the cold countertop touched her naked thighs.

He released her lips, his hands pushing her dress up and over her head and she was left in nothing but her panties.

She shivered when the cool air touched her heated skin, and she looked at him from under hooded eyes, her mouth going dry at the dark blue reflecting back at her. When she shivered again, it had nothing to do with the cold granite.

“I missed you,” he rasped and he wrapped his arms around her, leaning her back so the only thing holding her up were his arms. He kissed her neck, nipping, sending tiny shots of electricity sizzling across her skin. Felicity held him as his lips grazed across her collarbone, moving down. He teased her, his lips dragging over the sensitive skin of her breast.

“Please,” she whimpered.

He hummed against her, the vibrations razing across her delicate skin and straight to her core. She cried out when he finally wrapped them around the pebbled nipple. His mouth was hot, a sharp contrast to the cold air, and she tried to move her hips against his, seeking friction, needing more, but he had her nailed to the countertop.

“Oliver, please,” she moaned and his tongue flicked across her nipple before he pressed it to the roof of his mouth and she saw stars, heat erupting inside her in a rush, her mind going blank. She jerked when his hand was suddenly between her thighs, pressing her panties to the side and his fingers slipping through the wetness. He moaned his approval, and he thrust two fingers into her.

Felicity shuddered, her body clenching around him, her back arching for more. He moved so slowly it was painful, and she gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into the hard muscles, but he didn’t relent.

She couldn’t take anymore. She pulled his head up, sitting up and forcing him back.

The grin on his face at her eagerness made her blush, and she bit her lip. His eyes flared, his amusement melting back to naked heat before their lips crashed together.

She wasted no time, her hands slipping between them, fumbling with his belt and jeans. He helped, shoving them down and then he pushed her back down on the counter, his fingers already hooked in her panties and sliding them down. The counter was ice to her heated back as she lifted her hips to assist before reaching for him again.

He gripped her hips, sliding her closer to the edge, the head of his cock slipping against her slick entrance. She whimpered, need clamoring through her, hitching her legs higher around his waist as he slid his hands behind her, holding her steady.

He didn’t move, his breathing harsh, but controlled as she held onto his shoulders.

With a pained sigh, he pressed into her slowly, so slowly she felt every single thing. Her body tightened around him in anticipation and he grunted her name, his forehead falling against hers.

He let out a strangled sound before thrusting home. 

Home.

They were home.

“Felicity,” he moaned, his forehead falling against her shoulder.

His lips were on her neck again, his arms wrapping around her, encasing her in his warmth. He enveloped her, pulling her as close as she could go, and they wrapped themselves around each other, before he started moving. He slid out so easily and thrust back in, and she moaned, pressing her face to his cheek as he did it again, so slow it was torture.

“Oliver,” she whimpered, her breath dancing over his ear and she felt him shudder against her. “Please. I need you to…”

That was all it took. It had been too long, they had waited too long, and he thrust in full force. He slid one arm under one of her legs, and she cried out when he went deeper. His thrusts became harder, the island rocking from the force as the new angle slid across her clit, sending sparks of pleasure pulsating deep through her pelvis.

It lasted forever, but happened so quickly at the same time. The pleasure blossomed inside her, every stroke stoking the fire until it burned so hot everything around faded away, and the only thing that mattered was Oliver thrusting into her, pushing her higher and higher…

She came with a guttural gasp, his name falling from her lips; it echoed the sound of his skin slapping hers as his thrusts became harder, his fingers digging into her painfully, his muscles tightening under her hands until he followed suit, his back bowing as he emptied into her.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, both of them slumped over the counter, catching their breath, dazed and pleasurably numb.

Felicity was only vaguely aware of him pulling out of her after a minute, and she whimpered her disagreement. He chuckled lowly, leaning down to nuzzle her belly, his stubble tickling her before he pressed a kiss to her hip. He never stopped touching her as he reached for a towel, wetting it and cleaning her up.

She moaned her appreciation, lifting her leg lazily, her foot resting on his shoulder and Oliver smiled down at her, kissing the inside of her knee.

And then he was lifting her and carrying her back out to the living room, sated and warm and fuzzy, and he settled them in on the couch. 

“Oliver,” she sighed sleepily, pressing her back into his chest and huddled her closer.

The world was fading away, and she grappled to stay awake long enough, unwilling to let the night end.

“Hmm?”

“Love you,” she murmured, digging her face into the hard bicep. He pulled the throw she kept on the couch over them, snuggling in against her, wrapping her up in a warm cocoon.

“I love you,” he replied, pressing his nose to the back of her neck.

“Stay with me?” she asked. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I’ll never leave you, Felicity,” he said, the words soft... “Never.”

“Stay with me,” she whispered, wrapping her hands around the arm he had around her chest. He responded by wrapping both of his tighter around her.

“I’ll always stay with you…”

“Stay with me…”

Darkness…

*

The world faded to black.

She was already crying before she could get the wraparound glasses off her face, choking back the hard sobs trying to escape.

Her hands shook so hard she could barely grip the damn things, and when the question flashed, she shoved the glasses off so hard they flew across the room, bouncing on the floor.

_“Repeat Simulation?”_

She tried to breathe, tried to relax her body, but the words were the only things she could see…

_“Repeat Simulation?”_

The bright red, matter-of-fact letters she herself had designed reminding her of everything she had lost…

Her body was tight with unshed tears, straining to keep the grief inside where it always lived - it hadn’t dulled over the years, not like she was told it would. Time was supposed to heal everything, make the pain fade, make it easier to live with.

It didn’t.

Because Oliver was still gone.

Five years. He had been gone for five years, stolen from her, and nothing could make it better.

A tear slid down her cheek, the salty liquid burning on her ice cold cheek. She reached up to wipe it away, scraping her cheeks…

She could still feel him. She stared at her hands for a heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his cheek under her palm, the heat of his body over hers as he surged into her, the strength of his arms cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the world, loving her like she was the only thing that mattered…

She touched her lips, her fingers trembling, but they weren’t warm or used.

They were cold, dry and chapped.

She was alone.

When the sobs hit this time, she didn’t stop them. They took over, wracking her body, painfully yanking on already exhausted muscles.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill that hadn’t gone away since the moment they had found him in that warehouse, beaten so badly she had barely recognized him. He had been awake though, always so brave until the last even though his body had been shot through and abused.

The gangster Glasgow had put two and two together according to the timeline he’d had taped all over the warehouse walls - Oliver Queen was the Green Arrow.

She remembered stumbling over a toppled chair, falling to her knees at his side with a loud crack.

Oliver had reached for her, touching her cheek with blood-stained fingers, bloodshot blue eyes staring at her sightlessly…

He’d whispered her name…

And then he’d died two hours later from massive internal bleeding.

They’d found him too late. She’d been too late to save him, and now he was gone, forever.

Felicity had refused to leave him, and eventually Lyla had taken all the kids home… She’d spent over three hours staring at his lifeless body before John had forced her out of the hospital room.

When he’d told her it was over, she’d swung at him, nails leaving jagged scratches across his cheek.

_“You’re wrong. You’re wrong, he’s not gone. He’s not gone!”_

He was coming back.

He always came back.

He’d promised her.

But this time… this time he’d stayed gone.

The flat computer panel next to her bedroom door came to life, pulling her out of the memories, a low-tone beeping alerting her to an incoming phone call.

She didn’t move to answer it, didn’t bother to look to see who it was because she already knew.

John’s voice came through the speaker. When her tired swollen eyes ticked over to the screen on the panel, she saw his face as he left her a message, looking withdrawn and tired. He’d aged gracefully, but anyone could see the toll life had taken on him from the deep bags under his eyes and the white peppered through his hair.

“Hey, Felicity… just checking in. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Lyla keeps talking about having you and the girls over for dinner soon, and Sara’s coming home with some new guy she met. You know I’ll need my buffer here if I’m going to make it through _that_ so… let’s make it happen, okay?”

He paused.

“I hope you’re doing good. I heard Maddie’s kicking ass and taking names at QC these days. I saw Emma a few weeks ago, she stopped in Starling on her way back from whatever pilgrimage thing she was doing in Alaska…”

She thought she heard a tremble in his breathing before he let out a heavy sigh.

“Anyway, I just wanted to… check on you.

“Happy birthday, Felicity.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the short film ‘Stay With Me’ starring Stephen Amell (which I only recently saw for the first time and it f’ed me up). And I’m sorry, the dark angstiness came on like a slap to the face.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	4. King and Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bratva AU. There was one with two lines. There was one with a plus sign. And then there was the one that said, “BABY!” like it was supposed to be the best thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just moved, ya'll, and what I mean by that is the move destroyed my writing groove! So I'm going through and editing already-written ficlets while I get back in the tattoo AU mindset. It will be coming soon, I swear!

Remember when I made this? My muse followed the path the edit started in my mind…

  
[View on Tumblr](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/109638612874/im-a-king-and-shes-my-q-u-e-e-n)   


*

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Felicity whispered.

She couldn’t stop shaking. If she hadn’t already been nauseous, the anxiety jangling up and down her nerves would be picking up the slack. Her hands were raw from wringing them together, and she’d already cut her palm a few times where her wedding ring had snagged.

If the area rug in her room wasn’t on the upside of a couple hundred thousand dollars there would be a hole from all her pacing.

She needed to make a doctor’s appointment. She needed to confirm that it was real, that she wasn’t just freaking out, that her body wasn’t having a freaky reaction to the birth control or that her body wasn’t… wasn’t… 

She couldn’t even _think_.

Felicity stopped, her lungs feeling twenty times smaller than they should. She had been seeing black spots for most of the afternoon, she should probably eat something, drink some water, _sit down_ for one second… but if she stopped moving, it was real.

She made a strangled noise, burying her face in her hands, finally stopping.

Was she really thinking about doing this?

Could she do it?

Felicity blinked, and stared blankly at the large painting that took up the wall between her closet and her bathroom.

Her mind was still in there, still with the five tests she had bought intermittently over the last week on various shopping trips, hidden in clothes or stuffed under bags of makeup, until she had what should be deemed enough to satisfy the very serious panic attack she’d been on the verge of since she’d missed her period.

She never missed her period.

Ever.

It was a pretty miraculous thing actually, how steady her period was. Her MIT roommate always complained about missing hers, being worried that this time was The Time, and blaming her course load for the stress it brought; Felicity had never had that problem. Her menstruation was like clockwork, hitting nearly the same morning hour every single time. It was comforting, in a bloody, womb-peeling sort of way.

It was something she could depend on, and finding anything consistent in her life had been as easy as finding a purple unicorn in a field of daisies.

But then…

It hadn’t arrived.

To say she had panicked would be like saying she dyed her hair blonde. It was just a fact, and the urge to just to give into the wildly overwhelming urge to sit in a corner and _scream_ until she had nothing left was so, so great.

She’d called the first one a false positive - that could happen, right?

The second one had made her chest start feeling really heavy, like someone was sitting on it.

The third one was she was calling negative, because the faint second line was faint enough to call it negative, and just because she damn well could.

The fourth one she’d thrown against the wall, the stick still wet with pee, leaving a wet smear that only made her want to cry. She’d wiped it away before it had a chance to dry; maybe if she got rid of that evidence this wouldn’t be happening.

But then the fifth one’s indicator came up, a glorified, “BABY!” in a very distinctive dark blue on the little screen… and it led to her sitting on the toilet and shoving her head between her knees because she _could not breathe_.

Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe… maybe the tests were broken, or someone had dosed her with hormones or maybe she was dreaming…

But the tightness in her chest and the roiling nausea in her stomach were saying something else and oh god, she shouldn’t have eaten any dinner that night.

It had been quiet and tense without her filling the silence with her usual incessant rambling, and she’d systematically shoved everything that was put in front of her as fast as she could before excusing herself. It had been the longest fifteen minutes of her life, the silence in the room so heavy it felt like it was seeping into her lungs - into her freaking pores - cutting off any avenue of oxygen she could get.

She had just needed to get out of there before she threw up all over the table and her husband.

Felicity needed a plan. She had a plan for everything but _this_.

Logic was telling her it was the smart thing to do, to double check, but something else - something else, whatever it was, something intuitive and instinctual and something that was assuredly _not there_ a few days ago - was telling her she didn’t need a doctor to confirm anything.

She knew.

She had known, which was why she had been freaking out since the second she’d woken up on Thursday morning sans Aunt Flo.

She was pregnant.

With a baby, a real baby that was completely innocent and would be another victim in the train wreck of a life that had been put into motion when her father had been a child himself.

How was that fair, that she was paying the price, that her child would be paying the price, living in a world full of danger and constant fear and nothing… nothing sane? Nothing _normal_?

That was the life she was going to bring a child into? The life she was essentially sacrificing her child to?

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, her feet moving of their own volition as she started pacing again. At least when she was moving she didn’t feel like every nerve in her body was being electrocuted. “No. I can’t do that, I won’t do that.”

There was only one thing she and her new maternal instinct agreed on at the moment: she would rather die than bring a child into her world.

Bring it into her cold, emotionless, contract-based marriage, into the dark, ugly, brutal world of the Bratva, and into a world where the father’s face was carved from stone with ice for eyes, which never thawed no matter how politely he managed to smile.

No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this hadn’t been part of her plan.

So what now?

A million and one options ran through her mind, from the unspeakable to the dangerous to the terrifying…

There really was only thing she could do: _run_.

Felicity’s heart clenched when she thought about her mother and what would happen if Felicity disappeared. What about Donna? They had already used her against Felicity once - just thinking about that day when she’d come home to the men in her living room with the very large, very scary knife poised over her mother’s wrist… There was no way in hell she was going to leave her mother to the wolves.

She could make them both new identities. It would be so easy, to put all that knowledge she’d gained in high school to good use - she just needed a few tools, a few things, and she could make that happen. She could siphon some cash from the Family and cash it out and they could run. They could hide. They could survive.

They _would_ survive.

“Yeah.” Felicity nodded erratically. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do this.”

She had to.

She pulled out her suitcase, flipping it open and randomly started grabbing anything within reach. She didn’t stop to wonder why she needed her alarm clock or three bottles of perfume or the fritzy lingerie the room had come with. She grabbed and shoved whatever it was in her hands into the suitcase. She’d just buy anything else she needed whenever they got… wherever they were going.

Because she was doing this.

Because she needed to do this.

Her entire life she had waited for something that would push her over the edge, and now she had it. She’d always wondered what it would be, the catalyst, but no matter what it might have been, she had thought she would be ready for it, whatever it was going to be, because she knew on a bone-deep level that this existence of hers was not going to be her life forever.

She’d always assumed she would be cold and emotionless when the time came, since that was how she lived her life - as detached as she could make herself.

But this possibility had been the farthest from her mind.

And now she was _terrified._

Felicity paused at the entrance to the closet, squeezing her eyes shut as more hot tears leaked down her cheeks. The tears felt like acid, and her nose was so clogged it felt like her brain was becoming cotton. She hadn’t cried this much in a long time, not since she’d had to watch her father forcibly dragged out of their house before her mom had shoved her face into her stomach so she couldn’t see what they did to him. 

And now… now she was going to be a mom… and just the thought of having to protect her child like that, from seeing something a child had no business being near, made her heart drop.

A sob slid out before she could stop it and she clamped her hand over her mouth; she was afraid if she gave in, she wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t fear of the constant parade of the someone’s in the hallway hearing her and wondering what was going on, it was fear that if she let the reigns of control over her emotions go… she would be lost to it, she would drown in them and her chance to get out would be gone.

And she couldn’t afford that.

Wiping her face, she sniffed, rubbing her eyes. She needed to get to a phone and call Donna. How was she going to get her out? She knew better than to assume that someone wasn’t watching her little house in Nevada. She also knew for a fact that her mother’s phone was constantly being monitored, it had been since before Felicity had even come here, so she couldn’t just call her.

Why hadn’t they come up with some special code? They should have come up with a contingency code.

“Later,” Felicity promised. “I need to go. Later, I’ll worry about it later.”

She grabbed an armful of clothes, pulling them off hangers blindly and without any real grace or precision. Most of them fell to the floor, and she paused to grab some shoes that she thought she might need. She didn’t notice they were dark green stilettos with gold clasps.

She might need them.

She probably needed pants, pants were good.

What about baby clothes? She didn’t have baby clothes. She couldn’t just run out in the middle of the night and get baby clothes.

Why was she worried about baby clothes, the thing wasn’t any bigger than a blip inside her right now, and oh god, she was _pregnant._

Felicity stuffed the clothes into the suitcase, shoving it in awkwardly and in large humps. She was wasting space, she thought in the back of her mind, she would regret not packing properly…

Should she bring shampoo?

A soft thwack interrupted her thoughts, coming from her large picture window overlooking the mansion’s vast garden.

Felicity jumped at the sudden sound, her stomach dropping to her feet as a chill raced down her spine. Her eyes ticked to the window, the curtains drawn back… but all she saw was the vague glow of the garden lights, the lit-up fountain in the distance and her blurry reflection, her room in shambles, but nothing else…

She barely caught the flash of her bedroom light reflecting on green leather before a pair of heavy boots shattered the window, glass and broken wood spraying everywhere.

Felicity screamed, reeling backwards until she slammed against a wall as a large man landed in a crouch, his boots crushing broken glass. He immediately moved towards her and she tried to scramble away from him but she had nowhere to go.

He was _huge_ \- how was he taking up every inch of the room like that? His very presence felt like a physical entity coming at her - she didn’t see the hood, or the broad shoulders - the room was suddenly gone and she was sucked into a giant dark tunnel of death as he stalked towards her, his bow coming up, an arrow alright aimed _right at her_. 

Felicity Meghan Smoak-Queen was not someone who shrank away.

She had spent her entire life with Destiny hanging over her head, a destiny she had wanted nothing to do with, so she had learned to fight for what she wanted because it had literally been the only way.

She was a fighter… but not now.

Because it wasn’t just her.

Felicity instinctively shrunk away from him, curving her body over to protect her stomach without a second thought and she turned into the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible.

“Felicity Queen,” he said, his voice scarily dark and mutated, like it was coming through a modulator, and she froze at the unnatural sound, fear and adrenaline rocking through her so fast it nearly knocked her over.

She wanted to crawl inside the wall and hide, but one thing the Queen mansion boasted was solid architecture.

“Felicity Queen,” he repeated, his voice a thick growl that made her flinch. Like the voice had strings on it, forcing her to pay attention, she turned to look at him, eyes wide. She wrapped her arms around her stomach when she came face to face with an arrow.

The vigilante.

The freaking Starling City Vigilante had just busted through her window and the _one time_ the security detail wasn’t responding…

“You-” he started.

Felicity didn’t think, she acted.

She grabbed the nearest thing to her and threw it right at him - it was a floor lamp with a stone base. It didn’t go very far, but he was close enough that it clipped his shoulder before he could dodge it completely.

The distraction was enough for her to dart around him but he was fast, way too fast, and he snatched her around the waist - a jolt of fear so vivid it felt like someone was stabbing her in the chest shot through her when his arm touched her stomach and she went limp. He tossed her back against the wall and she scrambled to her feet.

“Don’t move!” he growled, the modulator sound gone, but his voice still had the same tenor that stoked the living fear in her chest. He grabbed another arrow and aimed the bow again and she crouched over, hiding as much of herself as she could. “Felicity Queen, you have-” 

“Don’t shoot me!” Felicity shouted, interrupting him before he could finish.

He let out an impatient grunt and she held up a hand to stave him off.

“Please. Please, I’m pregnant,” she said softly. A tear slipped down her cheek as she said it for the first time - out loud - and in front of a terrifying man holding an arrow pointed right at her stomach.

He froze, going so still she didn’t think it was humanly possible.

“Please… don’t shoot me, please.”

The longest moment of her life slowly eked by as he just stared at her. She didn’t dare move, fright keeping her frozen. She felt so exposed, barefoot in the sea of glass, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a tank top; she knew her feet were bleeding from her attempt to run away from him. She could feel the hot sting and the shards of glass embedded in her heels, but she was afraid if she moved, an arrow would fly right through her chest and then…

And then…

Felicity swore she _felt_ his eyes on her as he stared at her, not breathing.

She flinched when his shoulders fell, like the weight of her words just punched him in the gut, and he slowly lowered the bow, inch by inch until it was no longer a threat.

The arrow clattered to the carpeted floor with a heavy thud.

“Pregnant?” he whispered and ice slid down her spine at the voice.

The modulator was gone, as was the vivid wall of terror he had been imposing a moment ago…

Now he was just a man again, just a human standing in the middle of her room, wearing a green hood; she couldn’t see his eyes, but she felt them like a vice grip around her throat.

She knew that voice… but it wasn’t possible.

Of course she knew that voice. Her entire world had been tied to the owner of that voice since before she was born. She had come into this world contractually obligated to know this voice, and she had lived her life built around what was waiting for her when she came of age. She had lived her world wondering what his voice sounded like, who he was, what he was like, how he would treat her, and hating him just because of the deal her parents had made with the Bratva.

And when the unthinkable had happened, when she had been gifted with those five years of freedom and normalcy… she had learned to let the hate go.

Until he came back, from wherever he had been for those five years, and everything had been ripped away from her again in the blink of an eye.

She knew - in her saner and more logical moments - that it wasn’t actually him she hated because she didn’t know him. They had been married for seven months, two weeks and three days now, and they still didn’t know anything about the other. It had been an unspoken agreement that it was going to stay that way.

They didn’t talk about their lives, they didn’t talk about the Business - either the legal or the illegal ones - and they didn’t say anything past, “Good morning,” and, “Goodnight.”

They didn’t talk about the contractual obligation for heirs or the fact that they both knew she was on birth control.

They just… were.

And for a while, the anger and hate had simmered to a manageable level. The arrangement was old, but the marriage was still new, and the future still unknown as far as she was concerned…

But now it surged back to life in her chest as she realized the one person - the very single one person whom she had hoped would never know… now knew.

_He knew…_

No, it wasn’t possible.

_“Don’t shoot me! Please. Please, I’m pregnant…”_

It wasn’t possible that this was…

“You’re pregnant?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Felicity collapsed back against the wall, her legs sliding out from under her as the full weight of what was happening settled over her. All these months she had lived here, all these months she had shared the same roof, shared the same table, the same bed… all this time, and he had been someone - _something_ \- else entirely.

“Oh god,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Her entire world had just flipped upside down and her stomach lurched, vomit dancing across the back of her throat.

When she opened her eyes again, he still hadn’t moved, and now she recognized the feeling of his eyes on her.

It was the same weight she felt when he thought she wasn’t looking, wasn’t aware, that one that followed her nearly everywhere she went.

Tears blurred her vision as she asked, “Oliver?”

The End

*

I’m [dust2dust34](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, please feel free to drop by say howdy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just an idea at the moment - this collection should really be called ‘Bre’s Idea Dumping Ground (so they don’t get sucked away into the black hole inside her crazy head)’.
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	5. Orange Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notting Hill AU. All it took was a purple scarf with white stars and orange juice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feedback for that last ficlet? Astoundingly awesome. Am I writing a multi-chapter? I've certainly got plans to!
> 
> What I'm currently working on:  
> Blood Hands - a multi-chapter canon Bratva fic.  
> Dotted Lines - the tattoo AU.  
> King and Queen - the multi-chapter AU Bratva fic.
> 
> First two are plotted out, just need to fill them in with, you know, words (I prefer to have several chapters written before I start posting, because I lack discipline otherwise). King and Queen might take me a bit longer. In the meantime, I hit a snag in Blood Hands, so I sat down and watched Notting Hill. And this happened.

  
  
  


There were three things wrong with her day.

The first was that she was too nice. She really needed to stop being so nice, or rather she needed to stop listening to any old sob story and giving in.

That led directly to her second thing, which was ever hiring Roy Harper as her employee. Although she sort of blamed his parents for gracing him with that charming puppy-dog smile he used like a secret weapon. Well, his parents and whoever had helped him refine it until it was like kicking a puppy saying no to him.

And this all tied into the third thing which was that Roy Harper had forgotten to get actual coffee on his coffee run.

“I forgot what you wanted,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and Felicity buried her face into her hands. “I don’t get what the big deal is anyway, you’ve already had, like, five cups this morning.”

“I have only had _two_ , Roy,” Felicity said into her palms. She didn’t look up as she used her fingers to measure. “And that is about this much too little. Which you should really know by now considering you see me do this every single day.” Felicity looked up at him and made a face. “And how could you forget my order, it never changes.”

Roy raised an eyebrow.

“Oh wait, that’s right. You’ve gone on dozens of coffee runs and only come back with actual coffee _twice_!”

“Haven’t you ever heard that that sludge can stunt your growth, Barbie?” Roy asked, completely unruffled, and Felicity narrowed her eyes.

“How about you take that wiseass attitude of yours and use it to put away some boxes,” she replied.

There was that stupid smile of his. “You know you love me.”

“I know you have muscles that can lift heavy things, that’s about as far as my affection for you goes.”

Roy laid his hand over his chest, giving her a pathetic look. “You slay me.”

Despite herself, Felicity cracked a smile and he grinned.

She pointed her pencil at her lips. “This smile means nothing until those boxes are unpacked.”

“I am your faithful servant,” he said, giving her a bow as the doorbell for the front door dinged. Felicity waved Roy away with a, “Channel that mocking into some lifting,” before she moved to greet her new customer.

What she immediately noticed was that the guy completely engulfed her entire shop. The sun was in its mid-morning position, flooding the front windows with blinding rays of light, so not only was he dwarfing the shop, he was really just a giant dwarfing shadow of a guy.

Her shop wasn’t very big to begin with. It was a specialty store that had a novelty feel to it where she sold rare or one-of-a-kind items she had started collecting at MIT. What had been a fun tiny hobby quickly grew into a closet full of weird little things. If she wanted to trace it back, it began when she saw her roommate’s Pan-Am bag that she used as carry-on luggage when traveling, which in turn led to Felicity and Jen spending their weekends combing through the dozens of the thrift stores littered all over Boston.

The shop didn’t do great, but it didn’t do bad. It was a business that gave you ulcers, but you were happy to have them. She could afford to live comfortably in the apartment above the shop, and she could afford to pay Roy something - he was the best employee she’d ever had, even if he had figured out on day two how to push every single one of her annoyance buttons.

Her shop wasn’t much, but it was hers.

And this guy was making it look like it was the size of a cardboard box. 

“Hi, welcome to The Smoak Screen,” Felicity said, hopping off her stool at the counter. She saw the guy look at her but his face was still in shadow as she approached. “Can I help you find something?”

“I’m just looking,” he replied, and the timber of his voice struck her. Felicity paused, feeling the hint of déjà vu coming on. She had lived in Starling City for several years now but she didn’t exactly have a social life. And she would remember someone as… big as he was.

Maybe this would be her reasoning for Roy next time - no coffee means she started to imagine things.

“Well, shout if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

Felicity turned and headed back to the counter. She glanced back when he moved further into the shop, and she saw him picking up a thin purple scarf with little white stars all over it.

“Are you shopping for your wife?” He stiffened. “Or girlfriend? Or not, it could be anyone, I’m not trying to assume that it’s for anyone, because I don’t know.” She knew he was looking at her - despite the glaring sun - because she could feel his eyes drilling into her forehead. “The reason I ask is because I don’t think they’d like that scarf.”

He paused, and the longer she stared at the shadow the sun was creating, the more his face started to take face-shape. Maybe he’d come in before, he looked awfully familiar.

“Oh?” he asked, his amusement evident, and she took that as a good sign.

She stepped closer, waving at the scarf. “I sort of have a feeling about these things. It’s not like a supernatural sort of feeling, it’s just a… feeling. Like that feeling you get when you find the right pair of shoes. Not that you probably spend a lot of time buying the right pair of shoes, although maybe you do, or maybe you’re more of a… tie… guy.”

He chuckled.

Felicity paused. “Sorry. I have clearly not had enough coffee. I just don’t think that’s the right scarf.”

He didn’t respond, and Felicity wondered if she had just talked her first customer of the day right back out of her shop before he’d barely had time to browse. He had been pretty clear earlier, but the scarf was just… _wrong_. And she was used to most guys coming in and making a beeline for her, wanting to get the one item they were there for and then get out again.

Apparently not this one.

“But you are obviously here to browse, so I will leave you to browse.”

She turned to go when he reached out and touched her elbow, and she felt a tiny zing that had her looked down at his hand. She hoped it was for a split second, because she might have taken a lot longer than that to notice that he had _amazing hands_.

“No,” he said, nodding to the scarves. “I was just looking. If you have suggestions…”

“Oh. Okay. Good!” Felicity said. “You’re doing good so far, a scarf is the right choice.” She immediately pushed aside the purple one with the white stars and dug a little deeper before pulling out a beautiful silken blue and green ornamental scarf and a red knit one. “Now, I just need to…”

And then she looked at him.

She really should not have done that.

Because he was Oliver Queen.

Felicity blinked.

Oliver Queen, a movie star who rivaled the likes of Brad Pitt or George Clooney - or some other international movie star who had looks that were strangely magnetic along with shockingly good acting chops - was in her shop, looking at bad scarves, taking over the room just by existing… and he was looking at _her_.

Felicity gaped at him for a moment, and he stared back, wearing a polite and patient smile like this was something he ran into every day, people staring at him with their mouths hanging open and old coffee breath. And she’d had something spinachy for breakfast, hadn’t she? What if she something green in her teeth, or a green tongue?

She snapped her mouth closed and looked at the scarves again, a surge of adrenaline making her heart feel like it was exploding. The scarf was shaking in time with her hands, because her arms felt like they were going to vibrate right off her torso.

“Okay.” She took a breath. She felt like her center of gravity had just nosedived. “I just need to know a few things. About the person… you’re buying this for,” she said, her words coming out in halted breaths. She blindly held up the scarves. “Or you can just pick one. Or you can have both.”

He chuckled again and said, “It’s for my sister.”

God, no wonder his voice sounded so familiar, didn’t she just watch that cowboy movie he did last year a few days ago? The one where you got to see… all of his… backside.

Felicity blushed and fought to remember what he had just said, and not to realize that this man had an ass that you could absolutely bounce a quarter, and a dime, and a penny, and anything ever off of… and to ignore the way he cocked his head as he watched her, the fake smile he had been wearing turning into something a little wider, something a little more… deadly to her organs.

“Okay. Sister. Right.” She swallowed. Thankfully muscle memory wasn’t just for the actual muscles in her limbs as she went on her normal spiel. “How does she take her coffee?”

He gave her quizzical look at the odd question. This was her cue to explain her method - because she did have a method - but her mind blanked on her. Instead she stared back at him with wide eyes, unable to make her lips form words until he answered.

“Uh, black. I think.”

“Okay… and… how does she open envelopes? Does she follow the flap… flappy thing, or… or rip right into them?”

She watched his lips curl up into more of a smile, like he was enjoying her tripping over her words, and why wouldn’t he? She was just the local bumbling shop owner who didn’t know how to keep her cool because Oliver Queen was _in her shop_.

“She opens them from the side actually.” She lifted her eyebrows and he used his hands to imitate. “She tears that little corner flap and rips it right up the side.”

“Adventurous,” Felicity said and he chuckled - again. Instead of ramping up the butterflies trying to outfly each other in her stomach, it put her a little more at ease. It helped that her babbling wasn’t making him uncomfortable. “Okay. And last question is what is the first letter of her middle name.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow at that one and she realized who it was she had just asked that. Was that too personal? Of course that was too personal. That wasn’t too personal for any random person off the street, but asking a guy who spent his entire life in the limelight, who probably went more out of his way than anyone to hide these facts? _Way too personal_.

“You don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to,” Felicity said, and he just nodded, his smile losing all that natural charm he had just about obliterated her with, leaving her feeling disappointed.

Disappointed? That is really just a horribly stupid thing to think, a severely famous person was in her shop, looking at things she had specifically handpicked for sale, and she was disappointed that he was giving her his patented movie star smile? That smile was enough to melt the panties right off anyone with eyes, and she was disappointed?

The better question was how she was aware enough right now to be able to tell between his movie star smile and his… other smile?

Further evidence that lack of coffee was bad.

“Okay, um, the blue and green one. Is the one,” she said. “This has a fun story actually. An old Chinese man was wearing this when he, you know…” She made the classic sign of ‘he’s dead as dead can be dead.’ Felicity’s eyes snapped shut. “Which is the opposite of fun and really quite possibly the worst endorsement I could have possibly given this poor scarf.”

He chuckled - the sound was devastating - and took the scarf from her with a nod. His fingers brushed hers and she wasn’t sure if the tingle of his skin brushing hers was in her head or not as he said, “That’s… authentic.”

“Yes…” Felicity was still holding the red scarf as she nodded. “That is one way to think of it.” She pointed at the desk where she had been sitting. “Register. Unless there’s something else you needed? I don’t want to rush you out of here unless you want to be rushed out.”

The chuckle. Again.

“I’m ready,” he said and she made a beeline for the counter.

She heard him following her, and she nearly tripped over a basket she had sitting behind the desk but she caught herself before her forehead made out with her stool. She quickly typed in the price of the scarf - and she would only later realize she had severely overcharged him for it, because right at that moment she had no idea what her hand was doing - and he handed her a few bills.

She grabbed a bag and put the green and blue scarf in, automatically grabbing the red scarf as well and shoving it in along with it. “You can have this one too. On the house. Because red is pretty, and lots of girls like red. And in case I’m wrong.”

Oliver smiled at that, and it was the real smile again. “I highly doubt you’ll be wrong,” he said, taking the bag from her with a smile. “Thank you.”

Wow, they should bottle those lips and teeth.

“Have a good day,” he said before turning to leave.

“You… good day as well… too,” she replied, but he was already out the door.

Roy came back a few minutes later to find her still staring at the front, barely blinking.

She only turned when he waved his hand in front of her face.

“You alive in there?”

“What?” she responded. She looked at Roy slowly. “I think I need more coffee.”

“Okay…”

“No,” she said. “Not coffee. Do you know who that was? No, you probably wouldn’t care because I don’t see you ogling him… unless you do.” Felicity furrowed her brow. “Which I don’t think you do. I should splurge. Orange juice!”

“You do realize you’re talking in tongues right now, right?” Roy asked and Felicity just looked at him. “You okay in there? Because last time I checked, orange juice wasn’t a splurge.”

“It is for me,” Felicity replied. She stepped out from behind the counter and patted his shoulder. “Watch the shop.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not doing that.”

“Thanks, Roy,” Felicity said as she grabbed her purse.

“I said _no_ , blondie.”

“Uh-huh,” Felicity replied as she left.

The sun was blinding as she made her way to the coffee vendor down the block. She barely remembered making the decision to cut through the alley that held the entrance to her apartment. She barely remembered making it to Lou’s cart, her coffee guy, and the look he gave her when she asked for some orange juice instead of her usual mid-morning triple cappuccino.

No, the next time she was aware of anything was when she was about to head down the alley back to her shop when she stopped, the surreal feeling of the entire last few minutes starting to fade a bit, and she realized she actually did want coffee, and what a splurge that would be - coffee _and_ orange juice.

She switched gears, turning to head back to Lou, but instead she ran face-first into the guy coming up behind her.

They collided, her orange juice right between them.

The paper cup exploded and she yelped as the juice seeped through her sundress and the shirt of…

“Shit!” Oliver said loudly. The bright orange was soaking right through his white t-shirt and staining the front of his very, very tight and well-designed jeans.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Felicity said. She dropped the cup, immediately stepping in and plucking his soaked shirt of his chest - and wow, _his chest_ \- and he batted her hand away.

“I got it,” Oliver replied, pulling the shirt away from his skin. “Thanks.”

The ‘thanks’ sounded more like a ‘fuck you,’ which had Felicity flushing in horror.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, and I was going back to Lou for coffee, and I’m so glad that wasn’t coffee.”

Oliver grunted, somehow the sound coming out very similarly to the way he’d said thanks.

“Can I… I live right… right here, in this alley - I mean, not _in_ the alley, I’m not some weird vagabond, not that there’s anything wrong with vagabonds… but I do live right there and you can come in and I’m sure I’ve got something somewhere you can change into if you need to-”

The way he was looking at her had her words stumbling to a stop, and he gave her a pointed look, his eyes zeroing in on her wet dress and Felicity looked down. You could see every inch of her bright orange bra _right through her dress_.

She made an alarmed noise that sounded like a goat screaming and she immediately crossed her arms.

“Oh wow, this is quickly becoming the worst day of my life,” she said with a self-deprecating smile that Oliver didn’t really return. At all.

In fact, charming Oliver Queen was gone, and in his place was a grumpy, glaring guy who looked like he wanted to murder the oranges that had splattered all over his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “If you want, I might have... something.” 

He whipped his hand out, orange juice droplets spraying everywhere as he said, “Where’s your place?”

Felicity pointed over his shoulder, at the dingy alley door covered in graffiti. “Right there. The ugly, sad door that actually hides a really nice apartment.” When he looked at her again with an indecipherable look, she cringed away. “It’s not as scary as it looks, is what I mean.”

He plucked at his shirt again, looking around, looking like he really wished he had never met her before giving her a short nod. “Okay.”

“Great, good, okay,” Felicity blurted, darting around him and fumbling for her keys. She had the door opened and tried to usher him in first, but he merely held the door for her, staring at her with impassive eyes, waiting for her to go first, and all those nerves from earlier started clamoring across her bones, adrenaline making her feel like she was going to shake her skin right off.

“It’s not much,” Felicity said, climbing the steep stairs until she reached her second front door, which she unlocked with shaky fingers, far too aware of the fact that not only was someone very close behind her - and it had been a long time since she had had a someone up in her apartment - but that it was _Oliver Jonas Queen._

He didn’t respond and she clamped her mouth shut to keep it from running off from her again.

Sunlight flooded the entire front room, temporarily blinding her, and she ran right into her couch.

“Oh ow, okay. Who moved that couch?” Felicity dodged around it without looking back to see the look he was probably giving her as she nearly ran into a bookshelf next. “I’ll just run in here and see if I have something.”

She nearly tripped over the rug in the hallway to her bedroom before she stumbled through her bedroom door.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, her hands shaking so bad she could barely grab the first thing she could find to cover her ruined dress. Could this be considered flashing? Had she just flashed Oliver Queen?

She shrugged the black t-shirt on backwards before looking around.

Hadn’t Cooper left a shirt here? She knew she had something somewhere. She practically destroyed her closet trying to find it, the entire time trying to remember what mess she had left in the living room that he was probably staring at - he was already annoyed that she’d babbled the entire time he’d been trying to shop anonymously, and then she’d smashed orange juice all over him, and now he was having to see she was just a poor slob who left her used coffee novelty mugs everywhere.

He wasn’t making a sound, maybe he’d left.

She finally found the shirt.

“Got it!” Felicity ran back into the living room, holding it up and found Oliver standing by her fireplace, staring at the picture frames she had collaged over the brick. He turned back to her and Felicity had to do a double take when she saw the pleasant man she had encountered in her shop was back.

Whoa.

So this was very Jekyll and Hyde. 

“I, uh… here. Is a shirt. For you.” She held it up. “You can change in the bathroom, which is right over there.”

Oliver took the shirt, nodding his thanks and headed into the bathroom.

He was in there for maybe thirteen seconds when the door opened again and he came out, the blue shirt she had given him stretched to its literal gills across his chest. It was way too small, and plastered to every dip and angle of his chest. Felicity opened her mouth in another embarrassing bout of horror that the only shirt she had was that one when he zipped up his leather jacket, hiding it.

Wow, she didn’t realize Cooper was that small.

“Cooper?” Oliver asked, lifting an eyebrow and Felicity’s eyes widened. Oh, she’d said that out loud. Lovely.

“The guy… boyfriend - _ex_ -boyfriend - who that shirt belonged to.”

A smile grazed his lips for a quick second as he asked, “Ex?”

“Very ex. A long time ex.” Felicity nodded.

He didn’t move and she scrambled for something to say.

“Can I... get you something?”

What? What does one offer a movie star?

“Coffee? I have a lot of coffee. Or… food, but I don’t really have food. I don’t have anything. I sort of hit you with my splurge.” He lifted an eyebrow and she winced. “That came out really weird, didn’t it?”

“I think I’ll just go.”

“Oh,” she replied, nodding. “Right. Well, door is… I’ll walk you out.”

Oliver nodded. Her heart stopped when he paused as he opened the door, looking back at her. Then her lungs positively ceased to do anything when he gave her a small smile before he left.

Felicity closed the door. She slowly turned and collapsed against it.

Her entire apartment looked completely different now.

She didn’t get more than seven deep breaths when someone knocked on her door and she jumped.

It was likely Roy, wandering back here for help because he didn’t know anything about “froofy bags”

But it wasn’t Roy.

It was Oliver.

“Hi?” Felicity said.

“I forgot the scarves,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, yes, okay, um.” She backtracked, looking around, not remembering seeing any bag of any kind. She vaguely heard him stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

“Oh your armchair,” Oliver said helpfully and she spotted the bright blue plastic. She snatched it up and handed it over. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.”

Felicity rubbed her palms against her thighs as Oliver stared at her - who knew she was someone who got clammy palms? She smiled at him, nervously, trying to keep her breathing normal but she was standing less than a foot away from a mega-movie star in her apartment, and he was just… standing there.

“You’re sure about that coffee?”

Oliver didn’t respond. Instead, he titled his head, studying her. She ran her tongue of her teeth, just in case she didn’t have spinach lodged somewhere.

“You’re different,” he finally said, a weird look on his face.

Her stomach plummeted. Okay, she had not been expecting that.

“Different. Like… different bad, right?” Felicity closed her eyes. “Yeah. I actually get that a lot. It’s the scarf thing, isn’t it? Or the questions. Because what does coffee have anything to do with personal tastes and-”

She didn’t see him move. One second he was there and then he was…

Oliver cupped her face between his hands, cutting her off, and then he pressed his lips gently to hers. Felicity nearly stumbled into him, gripping his jacket in her trembling hands.

The kiss was soft, a perfect counter to the sure hold he had on her face.

Just as quickly as it happened, it was over, and Oliver stepped back, leaving Felicity frozen, blinking up at him.

“Different good,” he said, his eyes darker than they had been a minute ago. He licked his lips and she nearly came undone as he looked at her like… like different was very good.

“Oh.”

He glanced at the door, looking unsure, before looking back to her. She had no idea what he was going to say - he had just kissed her, though, this was something out of one of his dumb movies, not real life - before he gave her a sober look. “I think maybe this shouldn’t be… mentioned to anyone.”

“Nobody’d believe me,” Felicity immediately whispered and a quick smile flashed over his face at that.

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes taking her in, before smiling softly. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah. You too. Very… surreal. Nice… and surreal.”

He grinned, which turned her knees into Jell-O.

Felicity watched him turn, and leave.

She didn’t move for several minutes, staring at the door, but he didn’t come back.

Or the next day.

Or the one after that.

She harassed Roy until he finally snapped, assuring her he hadn’t taken any messages from anyone, much less anyone named Oliver.

On the third day, she started to wonder if she’d imagined the entire thing, especially when she saw a candid shot of him in People magazine holding a shopping bag in Beverly Hills.

But on the fourth day, Felicity came out from the back of the shop, threading the purple scarf through her fingers, wondering if something was wrong with her head because she’d nearly ripped someone’s hand off to keep them from buying it… to see Oliver leaning on her checkout counter.

With a smile, a replacement orange juice and a, “Do you like Italian?”

The End

*

I'm [dust2dust34](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, if you fancy dropping by and saying, "Howdy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know. I literally just wanted to write an Olicity version of the opening scenes in Notting Hill, but I realized as this was ending that it was too easy. I’ll potentially write a role reversal ficlet to accompany this - if anyone is interested in that? My mind went on a wild random soulmate AU tangent for this role reversal idea. (Btw, I really love orange undergarments, I see this becoming a theme in my ficlets.)


	6. While You Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Anon Prompt) Seven times Oliver and Felicity fall asleep together…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anon Prompt: I don't know if you are currently taking prompts because i just discovered your blog but if you are could you write a fic about how Oliver and Felicity sleep? (together obviously)_

For a man who spent the majority of his energy concentrated on keeping people _out_ , the minute he surrendered to sleep - and she meant _surrendered_ , as in he didn’t jump awake at the slightest sound, he didn’t thrash with nightmares, he didn’t do anything but rest - it was a completely different story.

*

The first night they fell asleep together was in an exhausted heap on her couch.

He’d been staying at her apartment for barely three days now while he looked for a more permanent place to land - a decent place for an ex-billionaire vigilante at least - since he refused to let her buy him anything, much less a bed that wasn’t a simple metal contraption.

It was three days of realizing he was way too big, that she thought he took over a room that was four times the size of her living room, and now that he was in her space? He made everything look really small. And don’t get her started on running into him in the morning - she didn’t realize how much comfort she had drawn from living alone because now she worried about drool dried on her face or smudged mascara that had escaped a face washing or making sure she didn’t have frizzy bedhead.

It had been a late night of chasing the bad guys, catching and handing them over to Starling’s best before they’d retired to the couch with two-day-old Chinese.

Oliver fell asleep first.

She remembered thinking the nice thing to do was let him rest for a minute before she woke him, that he looked like he was carrying a little less of that weight-of-the-world all over his broad shoulders when he was sleeping, that he looked at peace for the first time ever…

Felicity accidentally followed suit after one minute, and two hours later, a blaring infomercial for something with spices and socks woke her.

Felicity groaned in discomfort.

Because it was _hot_.

Wasn’t the air conditioning on? Why was she paying literally half her paycheck for that stupid thing to be on all the time if it wasn’t doing anything?

And then the hot _shifted_ , and she realized it wasn’t in fact a hot apartment, but a hot body. A very hot body, and not hot as in ‘wow, you are so gorgeous I would literally lick your skin right off’ - she hadn’t thought about doing that, nope - but hot as in an ‘I am a personal furnace, ask me how’ sort of way.

Felicity’s eyes cracked open, her glasses askew from being pressed into the cushions of the couch. She was slumped over, and Oliver was slumped over right next to her… or on top of her, really. Her heart jumpstarted to life, a dizzying surge of adrenaline rocketing through her veins as she realized there were parts him pressed to her that only happened in her head.

He moved again, rubbing his face against her arm, and instead of wondering how someone had managed to inject the actual _sun_ into a human body, Felicity shivered, causing goosebumps to erupt across her skin in a spine-tingling hot/cold combination that made her shiver again.

“Oliver?” Felicity whispered, barely heard over the stupid infomercial, and maybe she was doing that on purpose? Only a gentle snore was her answer, but she didn’t hear it because of the TV.

Where was the remote?

It was on his side.

She moved, just enough for him to move in reaction, but instead of moving away from her, he scooted closer, and she froze, afraid of waking him. Which didn’t make sense because she wanted to wake him.

“Oliver?”

He didn’t budge.

She stared at him through half-awake lids, watching him nuzzle her arm again before curling his arm against his chest as he snuggled against her.

He was snuggling with her.

And it was the cutest and most debilitating thing she’d _ever seen_. 

Despite the fact that her ribs were starting to ache, that her hip was wondering what she was thinking because it wasn’t supposed to be jutting into her organs like that, that parts of her were sweating that she didn’t even know could sweat, Felicity didn’t move, and it didn’t take her long to fall back asleep, glasses at an odd angle, late-night television screeching, vaguely thinking she’d need to throw away her shirt because it was going to have sweat stains the size of Canada on them…

Small price.

*

The next time they slept together was after their first date, on his bed in the loft he shared with Thea.

The date had been innocent as innocent could be, entirely informal, the opposite of the non-date dinner they had unexpectedly shared with the new vertigo guy. No, this had been a casual date, where they’d both worn jeans and walked around downtown Starling City, their idea of dinner a hotdog - his dotted with relish and mustard, hers slathered with ketchup - from a vendor.

It had been Oliver’s idea, and when she’d asked if he was afraid their last date-date had jinxed them, he’d rolled his eyes before grabbing her hand:

_“I just want to be with you, Felicity. I don’t want anything else.”_

It was perfect.

When she’d slipped her fingers through his, he’d been staring at the ground, acting adorably shy, but she’d caught the most beatific tiny smile gracing his lips, one that had sent her heart tripping all over itself, especially when he’d squeezed her hand in his.

They’d wandered around aimlessly for hours. He hadn’t stopped laughing for ten minutes straight when she’d shown him her awful Southern accent, and she’d teased him endlessly when he got caught holding a door open for no less than six women, all of whom gave him more than a once-over.

When a whip of wind sliced around a corner, Oliver had tugged her close, wrapping his arm around her. That would have been enough to send her into a fit of blushes but then he cupped her cheek with his other hand, pressing a soft affectionate kiss to her temple.

She’d bitten her lip so hard she nearly drew blood to stop the irrational giggle that wanted to bubble up because she had a boyfriend, and _he was so cute_.

When they got back to the loft, he’d pulled her upstairs with him - they had an unspoken agreement about going too far, too fast…

“I don’t want the night to end,” he’d said softly to her unspoken question, and she’d given him her own shy smile because somehow sharing a bed with him while _not_ having sex was alarmingly more intimate.

They stayed up talking, making out like she hadn’t made out since she’d dated Cooper; he counted the freckles on her arms and she traced her finger all across his face, memorizing him…

They fell asleep facing each other, fingers interlaced between them, their socked feet tangled together.

The next morning, the sun shone through Oliver’s floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting them where they laid on top of the comforter, cocooned around each other.

Felicity woke first; her face was pressed to Oliver’s back, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other thrown up and over him, loosely cupping the top of his close-sheared head, her fingers grazing his forehead. Oliver was curled up, pressing back against her, one hand loose by his face, barely touching her fingers there while his other hand was wrapped tightly around her arm across his middle, holding her close to him.

Felicity pressed a soft dance of kisses over his back, stretching up to press her lips against the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

Oliver actually _purred_ , goosebumps rising over his skin from her lips, before he whispered her name, so blissful it brought tears to her eyes.

*

When he got sick with a sinus infection, he swung from ‘leave me alone’ straight to ‘don’t leave’ and back again.

Oliver Queen rarely, if ever, got sick. Probably because he spent a majority of his day doing all the right things for his body.

But he was also human, so it happened. And when he got sick?

_He got sick._

It started out easy enough, with a runny nose and a slight headache, but he’d played it right off, chasing her around the foundry, teasing her with his “sick cooties” - and if there was ever a thing to remember, it was Oliver saying ‘sick cooties’ - but then a runny nose became congestion, and then it became nausea and then he’d nearly fallen over when he stood up too fast at the foundry one night.

He’d finally relented to go to the doctor, and only because she poked his face, making white hot pain explode like a tiny atom bomb in his sinuses. He got a bundle of antibiotics and strict instructions to not move for the next several days, and she got a healthy dose of pissed-off vigilante masquerading as Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Whiny Reindeer.

He had so not enjoyed hearing that nickname. 

After a fight involving the use of mentholated cream - “I _hate_ that stuff, Felicity. I will throw it out the window if you come near me with it.” She’d snorted. “You really think you can even lift it right now?” His glare had only been slightly hampered by his watery bloodshot eyes - and spending the majority of the day trying to make his own chicken noodle soup (missing the pot entirely when he tried to pour it), he finally fell asleep.

Felicity was flicking through the channels, eyes scratchy with sleep, when he shifted next to her.

She froze, waiting for the inevitable grouching and her eye-rolling followed by his punching the pillow as hard as he could - which was not that hard since his body was way too weak - but he didn’t do any of that.

Instead, he let out a soft little whine that made Felicity’s heart crack right down the center and she turned towards him. His eyes were barely cracked open, his face scrunched in discomfort as he scooted closer. Felicity lifted her arm to caress his head, to see if he was still running a fever, and Oliver took advantage of the opening, sliding right into her open embrace.

He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, his head pillowed on her shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in tight. He let out a long, deep sigh as he relaxed against her, and it took him less than a few seconds to fall back asleep.

Felicity smiled softly, lightly scratching his scalp, making him moan softly in his sleep and nuzzle closer.

She settled on Grease, turning it down so he wouldn’t wake, and slowly fell asleep randomly pressing her lips to Oliver’s heated forehead while running her fingers down his back as he slept off his infection.

*

When she got pregnant with their first baby, Oliver made it a habit to always find a way to lay down so his head was in her lap - whether they were watching a movie, or she was reading, or if they were just lazing about - and would promptly fall asleep talking to The Bump.

If they were on the couch, he always made sure she was at the farthest end so he could stretch out, laying down so he was facing her stomach where her now-five-month bump waited for him.

If they were in bed, he made sure she was settled into her side before he flopped down diagonally, his face in her lap so he could read The Bump bedtime stories.

If they were in the park, he made sure their tree was available - the one that offered the best back support she’d ever found in anything _ever_. It took a while for their claim on the tree to grow, but Oliver’s eventual looks of avid displeasure and sometimes bribery - one guy talked his way to up a hundred dollars, much to Felicity’s chagrin - eventually meant it was always available when they got there each Sunday for their weekly visit.

(It would become a family tradition, that park, especially when Oliver anonymously donated a playground on one side and a baseball park on the other - his explanation to the QC Board at their balking, because this was his fourth large donation that month alone, was to inform them it was a big park, and they had three kids to entertain. End of story.)

It was their tree: her perch and his place to lay with his head in her lap while she read, or listened to whatever story was on tap for the day.

Today, it was a story of how he’d asked her to marry him.

Felicity’s fingers carded through Oliver’s hair - which was growing longer, she noticed, long enough for her to easily grab a healthy handful if she wanted to - while he dozed in her lap, murmuring to The Bump. 

“Daddy was very nervous, which he should have probably been used to because Mommy always made him nervous. She’d made him nervous since the first time he met her, not that he would ever tell her that, because that would ruin his cool.”

Felicity snorted and he gave her a serene smile without opening his eyes.

His finger traced over The Bump - she’d argued for a more original name than its obvious state of being a bump, but Oliver had shot her a squinchy frowny face before saying, ‘I put it there, I get to call it what I want.’ She’d then hit him in the face with a pillow.

With a content sigh, Felicity closed her eyes, leaning back against their tree as he continued the story of the two days it had taken him to finally ask her, and by that time she’d informed she’d already said yes, she was just waiting for him to catch up, which in theory meant she had already asked him because she’d already said the words. 

“Mommy always did that to Daddy though,” Oliver whispered, resting his hand on top of her belly.

A surge of tears pushed to the surface at his tone, at the way his hands cradled both her and the baby.

“She always knew, and she always waited… and made Daddy the happiest man in the entire world.”

Oliver pressed a kiss to her stomach.

They both dozed on and off, in their little bubble, holding each other, and their future. 

*

They fell asleep together in the hospital the night Felicity gave birth to their second baby, a little boy named Tommy, delivered four weeks before he was due. He was so tiny, small enough to look like a tiny puppy against Oliver’s broad chest; for the first few days, they’d kept him in an incubator, but he’d come into the world kicking and screaming, with more life and vitality than was appropriate for a premature infant, and he’d been able to stay in the Queens room soon after.

Felicity had not fared so well.

The last thing she remembered was getting the green arrow, and the car in front of her going. She’d been listening to Evie chattering in the backseat while she hit the accelerator, followed by Oliver’s chuckle at the logic line their daughter was following as he threw Felicity a sidelong glance to say, ‘Mini-Felicity is at it again.’

It was the one time Felicity insisted on driving.

_“I can still drive, Oliver, I’m not an invalid.”_

Oliver saw the car first, but by the time he yelled her name it was too late. It collided with the driver side, Felicity taking the brunt of it as it rammed them across the intersection into another car.

The only thing Felicity remembered hearing was the sound of metal _crunching_ \- metal wasn’t supposed to crunch like that, in a harsh ugly squeal that sliced right through her eardrum.

And then the next thing she was aware of was a low, steady beeping when she woke up eight days after.

She had been in surgery for ten hours, delivering Tommy via cesarean. She’d had massive internal bleeding, lacerations across her liver and spleen, the driving force in keeping her sedated for so long to let her body heal. The only reason Tommy had survived was because Felicity had instinctively curled her body around her stomach, twisting just enough that she got most of the damage, not him… which was going to leave a nice, handsome scar all over her stomach. She hadn’t seen it yet but she could feel the tight pulling of about three thousand stitches. Well, it _felt_ like that, maybe three thousand was a bit of an overstatement. It would definitely leave a nice mark.

She didn’t think Oliver would appreciate hearing that she was raising in the ranks of the Who Has the Most Interesting Scars game.

It was nearly one in the morning when Felicity woke.

Her head still felt like it was full of cotton, and there was a constant level of dull pain that no amount of morphine was able to fix deep inside her body. She wasn’t sure if it was because her organs had been fileted or if it was the constant ‘what if’ floating around in the back of her head - what if she had hit the accelerator a second later, what if she hadn’t twisted, what if something had happened to Evie, what if something had happened to Oliver, what if…

She shifted, jostling Oliver where he was sitting next to the bed, both hands cradling one of hers, his face laying on top of the hand pile. He opened her eyes the same time she did, and Felicity felt the slow build of relief and terror she’d been swimming in since she’d woken up when she saw the evidence of what had happened on him. It was in the bags under his eyes, the dried tear tracks, and the nasty gash across his right temple where his head had collided with the window. Evie had escaped with only a few bruises and scratches, although Oliver told her she’d outright refused to leave his side until Felicity opened her eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, sitting up. “How’re you?” She gave him a tired smile before she looked around the room. Reading her mind, he said, “John took Evie home for a sleepover with Sara. And Tommy…” Elation filled her heart at the mention of her son and Felicity tried to sit up but Oliver immediately pushed her back down. “Don’t move,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get him.” 

He was in a bassinet literally right next to him that she hadn’t seen over his shoulders and when Oliver bent over, picking up a tiny, tiny bundle, she let out a little sob that had Oliver’s worried eyes flying to her.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, tears flooding her eyes as she stared at Tommy. “I’m very, very okay.”

She lifted her hands, indicating he should hand him over and he gave her a tiny smile before leaning over, setting the little boy on her chest. He had done so well in the eight days since he’d been forced from his comfy womb home, already growing by leaps and bounds, but still small enough that he felt more like a comfortable pressure on her chest instead of an actual human.

Tommy barely moved, letting out a tiny gurgle as he slept through it all.

She inhaled, smelling him, and let out a deep sigh, no longer feeling that deep ache inside her.

Oliver watched her, brushing his hand over her forehead. She looked up at him, and the tired, loving smile tinged with abject relief he gave her made her heart skip a beat.

They were going to be okay.

He pressed a long kiss to her forehead as he sat down.

Felicity stared at Tommy, Oliver’s hand still on her head, his other finding Tommy’s back.

They fell asleep like that, with Felicity turned towards Oliver, holding their son to her heart. Oliver’s arms cradled both of them as he rested his head on her shoulder, not caring that he was going to wake up with the nastiest backache in the history of backaches from the awkward angle, only caring that his entire world was still whole.

*

The next time they fell asleep was on a towel on the beach in Hawaii, with Oliver laying on his back and Felicity draped across him, sunning her back in the annoyingly revealing bikini she’d bought specifically for this trip. It was part of the reason Oliver was having a hard time leaving her side - those triangles were far too small.

The loud squeals coming from their children echoed the laughter from others on the beach further down and the rush of the waves as a gentle breeze rustled Felicity’s hair.

“You’re tickling me,” Oliver said drowsily and Felicity’s answer was to move closer, letting the wind push more of her hair across his chest. “Felicity.”

She scooted closer.

With a growl, Oliver pushed her onto her back, and she let out a small squeal as he flipped to his stomach, draping half his body over hers. He pressed his face into her neck, pinning her down on the towel. Felicity took a deep breath, lifting him slightly, and blew the air right into his ear.

He grumbled, and she giggled. 

“Could you guys not _snog_ where everyone can see you?” Tommy asked. Felicity and Oliver looked up as their eight year old ran up, grabbing his boogey board. He made a face, saying matter-of-factly, “It’s really gross and people are staring.”

And then he was off, running through the sand back to the water.

“Who the hell taught him the word ‘snog’?” Oliver asked, letting his head drop back on her and Felicity chuckled.

“That would probably be your daughter, Mr. Queen,” she replied, angling her head to check on the kids. Evie was on her own towel several yards away, reading a book, looking up every few minutes to watch her brothers. Tommy was diving back into the ocean while six-year-old Johnny built an impressive sandcastle with a large moat the size of Oliver’s arms.

Oliver snorted. “ _My_ daughter. Right.”

“You’ll be grateful she takes after me when she starts dating.”

“If,” Oliver said, shaking his head against her. “You mean _if_ she starts dating.”

“I cannot wait for that discussion,” she replied airily, her eyes drifting shut in contentment. “You keep calling her ‘Mini-Me’ but guess where she gets her stubbornness?”

“Also you,” Oliver said and she pinched his arm, making him nip at her jaw. 

She sighed, turning to face her husband as the sun warmed them. As the afternoon grew long, his hand lazily drifted down her side before finding its favorite place on her body. His fingers gently traced the scars across her lower stomach. He did it without thought anymore; his hand always sought them out whenever he could, almost as if he was reminding himself that she was there, that their son was there, and that everything was okay. 

*

On the night of their thirtieth wedding anniversary, they fell asleep on a deck chair, listening to the sounds from the party inside filled to the brim with friends and family - a family they had worked to build over the years, through more joy and heartache than she would have thought was possible for two people, one that was equal parts friends and blood.

Oliver had pulled her outside with him, slipping away unseen. Without a word, he’d cupped the back of her neck and kissed her forehead before tangling his fingers with hers and pulling her towards the far end of the deck. Kicking a chair away from the others, Oliver sat down, tugging her down with him.

Felicity kicked off her heels, sighing with pleasure as she stretched out her toes before snuggling up against her husband as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Oliver tilted his head up, pressing his lips to her jaw, a hand sliding up her spine to the back of her neck again, holding her in that way that he knew always made her shiver. He pressed his face into her shoulder, inhaling deeply before releasing it, letting any tension slide right out of his body as he settled in with her. 

“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Queen,” he whispered, his stubble - the stubble he never, ever got rid of and which she was really, really grateful for - scratching at her skin, and she pressed closer to him, kissing his temple.

“Happy anniversary, Mr. Queen,” she replied. “I think you might be stuck with me.”

“Now that just sounds horrible,” he replied gruffly, pulling her in tighter. Felicity hummed her assent - this was their thing, the same thing they had been saying since their six month anniversary. She curled her legs up, settling in with him as he sighed, his breath dancing across her collarbone.

People talking and laughing and the sound of dishes being moved and the front door opening and closing and… everything that their lives had become, moving around them, _living_ as a result of them, added into the background as they held each other in the warm summer breeze.

Felicity wasn’t sure who dozed off first, but her last thought was how amazing it was that this giant, terrifying man - who had done more damage with his hands, and had even more damage than that done to his soul - had ended up in her arms, falling asleep without a care in the world, trusting her to take care of him and love him, trusting her to know he did the same for her…

“I love you, Oliver,” she whispered.

His lips curled up in a tiny smile as he slept.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These could all be little stand-alone bits, couldn’t they? As per usual, this thing ran away from me. This started out as “Three times…” before becoming “Five times…” and now it’s “Seven times…” so I’m posting it before it becomes “Sixty-Eight Times…”
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	7. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate, whipped cream and cupcakes… (drabble response to anon love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a recent anon note that made me so happy, I wrote a drabble: _You make me happy with your fics. Lots of chocolate, whipped cream and cupcakes..._

Oliver was exhausted. His eyes were scratchy, his head was throbbing; every muscle ached with the need to lay down and not move for at least seventeen hours. He just wanted to curl around Felicity, put his head on her chest and fall asleep with her.

If anyone would have asked ‘Ollie Queen’ ten years ago if he would be this big of a sap over a woman, he would have laughed. But then again, Ollie was a fucking idiot.

Oliver might have had some of that ‘fucking idiot’ lingering inside him for a while, but he’d finally learned from his mistakes - it had taken some time, but now he didn’t take a single minute with her for granted.

Oliver unlocked the front door to Felicity’s apartment. He’d moved in over a year ago, with the understanding that they would find a place all their own eventually, but it kept getting put off. Which was fine. He didn’t need a place that was all their own - wherever she was, that was his home.

He stayed quiet, in case she was resting, since she’d gone home earlier that night not feeling well. All the better. It wasn’t his favorite day of the year, and he’d spent a good deal of that disfavor beating the living crap out of every purse snatcher, gang member and overall creep he could find in the Glades until he’d dragged his ass back to the foundry, leaving himself just enough energy to change and get home to her.

He’d stopped for some chicken noodle soup, although he half-hoped she was asleep, so he could fall in next to her and they could put this day to rest for another year, and start tomorrow anew.

It took Oliver way too long to notice the soft glow coming from the bedroom as he toed off his shoes, dropping his keys in the basket. He picked up the mail, thumbing through it, about to call out her name when he finally noticed, and he paused, furrowing his brow.

“Felicity?”

Tossing the mail onto the couch, Oliver moved down the hall.

The first thing he saw was her bare feet… and then her bare legs… and then her bare _everything_.

Oliver gaped, suddenly not feeling a single inch of the discomfort he’d been so ready to sleep off a moment ago.

Felicity was laid out across a towel on their bed, surrounded by a soft sea of candles that flickered with the moving air as he slowly stepped in. She was leaning back on her elbows, her hair up in a high loopy bun, and she was naked.

_Naked_ … except for the small mounds of whipped cream she had sprayed artfully to cover her sex and her pert breasts. She’d littered little chocolate chip pieces all over herself, some stuck in the whipped cream, some having fallen off her curvy slopes and others melting pieces stuck to her, leaving little spots of goodness smeared across her pale skin just aching to be licked off.

But the real prize was the large chocolate cupcake sitting on her stomach, a single lit candle stuck through the center.

She smiled. “Happy birthday, Oliver.”

He didn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but stare at her, feeling a mixture of the wicked arousal that had had him hard the instant he saw her luscious legs, as well as amazement that not only had she remembered - which of course she did, it was Felicity - but that she’d purposefully not made it into a big deal, knowing how he felt about it.

Instead, she’d left it for just them.

That amazement paved the way for the blinding love that warmed his chest as she said, “I know today isn’t your favorite day, but I wanted to celebrate it. And the only way I could think of celebrating without you getting growly was with nakedness.” She made a face. “Obviously. Since I’m naked.”

An involuntary grin covered his face as she took a careful, even breath, the cupcake on her stomach wavering, before giving him a saucy look.

“Plus, everybody loves birthday cake. You can’t tell me you don’t love birthday cake.”

Oliver let out a breathy chuckle, dropping the forgotten soup.

“True,” he said, taking his jacket off slowly, savoring the way she bit her lip, looking up at him from the bed where she’d painstakingly arranged herself for him.

“So you like?” she asked.

His eyes roved all over her, his lips tingling with anticipation.

“Oh, I like, I definitely like,” he murmured, and she started to giggle before the cupcake on her stomach almost pitched over and she froze.

But Oliver was already there, steadying it, his finger smearing melted chocolate across her trembling skin. 

For the first time in years, Oliver made a birthday wish - visions of their future together, of Felicity wearing his ring, her body swollen with his child, their children playing, of being happy, healthy and _content_ ; having everything he thought he’d signed away when he’d taken on the Arrow mantle until the source of all the light in his world steamrolled her way into his life, turning it upside down…

He wanted it all.

With her.

Oliver wished for it, and then he blew out the candle with a happy smile, setting it aside to thoroughly enjoy his cake.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/116867812944/you-make-me-happy-with-your-fics-lots-of)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	8. Be Kind, Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oliver,” Felicity said, grabbing his arm and turning him. “Kiss me.” (Set in first half of S2 somewhere...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support for this collection, every kudos, review, favorite and follow makes my world!
> 
> I sat on this story for literally three months. I wrote this on February 22 (yeah, I date my work), and I think the reason I never posted it was because I felt like it wasn't in character. I think past-me was wrong.

Her toes were dying a slow, agonizing death.

These shoes - these cute, sky-high shoes that she had found a mere three hours before the charity event tonight - were becoming the bane of her existence. And her existence included a lot of bane; she had a lot of bane to complain about.

For example, the fact that Oliver Queen - former billionaire playboy turned faux-CEO by day and hooded vigilante by night - could not get the damn security door relocked.

“What kind of security door doesn’t just lock again when you close it?” Felicity whispered and Oliver grunted in response. “Is this how we’re going to get caught, we’re going to go to jail for _relocking a door_?”

“Felicity, now is not the time,” Oliver said as he twisted the tools in hand, waiting for the click to sound.

Getting through the security door had been a breeze - it had given her false hope that they were going to have a ‘wham, bam, thank you, Stan’ sort of night, especially when she’d whipped out her phone, uploaded the trojan to the internal network and been out just as quickly.

It had been some of her best work, if she had to admit it; which she really did, because right now her work was far outshining that of Oliver’s. She had made hers so easy and simple that it took a few keystrokes. His… was apparently more difficult.

His only job had been to break into the door - that was it, that was all. Of course it had been that simple before they realized the door didn’t relock right away, and when it remained unlock for a total of eleven minutes - somebody needed to explain that time choice to her, stat - the alarm sounded.

Honestly, what kind of security door didn’t automatically relock upon closing? It’s like they were inviting people to break in.

Oliver cursed, and Felicity tapped a finger against her clutch. Her eyes were glued to the back of his head, but her ears were straining down the hallway, waiting for a guard to poke his head around and ask what the hell they were doing. She didn’t have freakish sonar ears like Oliver, hers were more attuned to the subtle score changes in Fringe, not hearing the change in the air when someone walked through it or the near-silent steps of guards patrolling the hallways.

What she could hear was the music coming from the main floor two floors below, the tinkle of fake laughter and the chinking of champagne glasses.

They had already been gone too long.

She could just see Diggle where he waited for them, arms crossed, his jaw doing the clenching thing, eyes full of murder.

“This is taking too long, Oliver.”

“Thank you, Felicity, I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Okay, mister, sarcasm does not sit well on you.” Oliver sighed in exasperation. “Get relocking!”

“I’m trying!”

“Not very well, obviously.”

Oliver held up a hand in aggravation, giving her a hard look over his shoulder. She met his stare head-on and he shook his head before pushing the tools back into the lock. Felicity fought the urge to tap her foot.

And then she heard something.

“Got it,” Oliver said as the door locked again.

All her senses shot towards the head of the hall, ignoring the soft shuffle of Oliver’s pants on the floor, the clicking of the metal tools and his gentle, even breaths.

Someone was coming.

“Crap,” she whispered when she definitely heard footsteps.

Oliver stood, slipping the tools into their pouch before sliding it back into the breast pocket of his tux.

She glanced around, but the hallway was full of locked doors and at the opposite end was a bare wall with a water fountain. Nowhere to hide, not unless they unlocked the door he had just worked so hard to relock…

“Oliver,” Felicity said, grabbing his arm and turning him. “Kiss me.”

“What?” he asked, like she’d just told him to strip and streak down the hallway.

“Kiss me,” Felicity hissed and she grabbed his face and yanked his head down to her level.

Felicity pressed her lips to his without preamble, clenching his face in a death grip between her hands.

The first thing she was aware of was that Oliver had amazing lips - they were full, very soft against hers, and she could still taste the few sips of the scotch he had ordered when they’d first arrived.

The second thing was that she was digging her nails into his skull and she immediately relaxed her hands. 

The third thing was that Oliver was bent over her awkwardly, hands frozen at his sides like an uncomfortable tree.

And fourth, both of their eyes were wide open, and staring right at each other.

Felicity pulled back enough to snap, “At least put your arms around me,” before shoving her lips against his again.

Oliver did as she said but they just rested on her waist, barely touching her bare back, as if her skin was covered in flesh-eating acid.

And then they just _stood there_.

When she wrote her memoirs, this moment right here was going to go down as the most horrifying and awkward moment of her entire life.

She was kissing Oliver Queen, and he was doing nothing but standing before her like a piece of stiff cardboard.

She didn’t let herself take the time to appreciate how he felt against her - how much more broad his shoulders were now that they were _right there_ or how large his hands really were or that she was kissing him _at all_.

She’d thought about kissing Oliver, a lot - before he’d ever come into her office and definitely throughout all the time they had worked together, but it had become most prevalent since he’d come back from Lian Yu, since she’d felt the subtle shift between them.

She hadn’t known what it was - she _still_ didn’t know what it was ¬- but she thought it might have been… something.

Clearly - _clearly_ \- she had been imagining it the entire time judging by how he was acting and now she was going to have to go bury her head in the ground and never come up for air again.

What was she doing, why had her brain immediately jumped to _kissing him_?

Felicity wasn’t even aware of the guard at the top of the hall until Oliver pulled away, too consumed with the thought that Oliver had kissed literally hundreds of women, and he could barely scrounge up a measly ten percent of effort to kiss her back. Something dark and ugly settled in her chest, a ball of uncertainty and self-consciousness rising in her throat.

When she’d thought about a first kiss with him, this hadn’t been it. 

“Felicity, let go,” he whispered, his hands circling her wrists gently but firmly.

“Right,” she stuttered, immediately releasing her clawed hold on him. She avoided his eyes where they still rested on her face, and turned in a daze to look at the man waving a flashlight at them.

“Let’s awkwardly kiss our boss another time, huh?” the guy said and humiliation and embarrassment rushed across Felicity like a tidal wave. He knew who Oliver was, who she was, and that she was there that night acting as his EA and nothing more… and it looked like she’d just attacked him and made a fool of herself.

Which she had.

“You guys aren’t supposed to be up here, come on.”

Felicity closed her eyes, pinching her lips and nodded. The flashlight felt like a spotlight made of fire on her face as she hugged her clutch to her chest and walked towards the guard, eyes on the floor.

Oliver was right behind her, eyes burning little holes into the back of her head.

“Sorry about that,” Oliver smoothly to the man, barely a hitch in his voice, sounding for all the world like this was a common occurrence for him.

Which it probably was.

Just not with her. 

Felicity should be feeling a bit of triumph. It had worked. Oliver had gotten the door locked, she’d gotten her foot in the door - as it were - and the distraction for the guard had obviously achieved its goal since he wasn’t calling for backup of any kind, but she wasn’t. No, all she felt was horror, humiliation, embarrassment, and… rejection. She’d just kissed Oliver and it had been nothing like she’d expected. The distraction had worked just like in the movies, but the kiss wasn’t supposed to be so incredibly…

_Awful._

So awful.

Oh god.

She was never going to be able to look him in the eye again.

Ever.

The guard smirked at them when they reached the stairs to go back downstairs, clearly amused, and the silence was deafening as they descended. The flashlight followed them for a moment before the guard clicked it off and continued on his rounds.

She was hyperaware of the fact that Oliver was right behind her, and she really needed to go find that glass of champagne she’d had earlier.

Or, like, three of them.

The glow of the party rose to meet them as they reached the main level and she sped up, eager to get to the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel in the form of the lighted fountain that was sprouting alcohol.

“Felicity,” Oliver said behind her and she waved her hand without looking back.

“I really think we should go find John and make sure he knows we’re not dead. Or worse, in jail,” she said, nodding her head as she spoke. “He’ll want to know that, because being dead is bad, and being in a jail cell in these shoes is bad - even worse I would wager because these shoes are not easy to stand in and I’m not sitting on those benches in this dress. We should tell him we’re okay so he can at least stop doing that bicep thing he does because he’s not exactly an unscary looking guy - he’s very scary, in that big muscly way, and he can give glares like the best of-”

“Felicity,” Oliver interrupted, dragging her name out in a way that made her stomach clench. Oliver cupped her elbow - making her stomach _drop_ \- and pulled her to a stop. “Hang on a second.”

“I’d rather not,” Felicity said, letting him pull her around so they were facing each other, but she didn’t look at him, keeping her head turned so she could stare at the party, listening intently to the distinct sound of the champagne glasses leaving trays. Where was her glass? She wasn’t a drinker, she didn’t spend a lot of time drinking very much of anything, which made the sound of gulping down an entire glass a whole lot better. “We should get back, Oliver.”

His hand came up to her shoulder and she closed her eyes, ready to hear the ‘let’s talk about better distractions’ speech when his thumb rubbed across her collarbone.

Felicity’s eyes snapped up to his.

He was looking at her; the shadows had to be playing tricks on her, because his eyes looked darker, more intense, more… Arrow-y.

Her heart swooped, her muscles tightening at the sight.

“Oliver?”

He didn’t respond and her heart swooped for a different reason, a less fun reason.

“What?” she asked. “Was the kiss that bad?” An involuntary chuckle escaped him at that and her embarrassment came back tenfold, a heated blush sweeping across skin. She looked away again. “Okay, obviously it was. I’m sorry I did that, we need to come up with a better contingency plan for things like this than the ones that pop into my head.”

Oliver stopped her, cupping her cheek with his free hand to force her to look back at him.

Time stopped and sped up at the exact same time.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Oliver tipped her head back and then his lips were on hers.

Felicity inhaled sharply.

He kissed her, his lips pressed firmly to hers in a way that made her insides turn molten. And then he angled his head, his tongue slipping out and running across her lips, and she _melted_. Felicity moaned, opening her mouth in invitation and he took it, the hand on her shoulder slipping down to wrap around her waist, pulling her in.

This.

This is what she had thought would happen.

She vaguely heard her clutch fall to the floor as she grappled for something to hold onto before she wound her arms around his waist and pressed up against him, standing on her toes to get closer, no longer feeling the tight shoes or the awkwardness or anything but the sensation of… Oliver.

Oliver.

Was kissing her.

He was _kissing her_.

His warm hand pressed fully to the bare skin of her back, making her shiver in a way that had her chest pressing more fully to his, goosebumps erupting under his touch. He pulled her closer, the hand on her face tightening, angling her to match him perfectly as he controlled every inch of the kiss, a fire burning to life in her core.

She held on to him, kissing him back, her hand slipping up under his tux jacket and pressing to his warm back through the dress shirt.

It was his turn to shiver and something shattered in her chest at the sensation.

Felicity whimpered, nails digging into his spine and his kiss grew more heated, demanding more. His hand slid around to cup her open neck as he pushed her backwards and she met him step-for-step. She didn’t have to think or wonder what was happening, she realized, because she trusted him implicitly.

He could take her anywhere and she would go.

A chorus of laughter from the party broke the moment.

Oliver stopped them short before they hit the wall, and Felicity whimpered her disappointment. Oliver gave her a tremulous breath against her lips, before he took another kiss, and another, not quite done. His tongue teased hers, his stubble scraping against her delicate skin… 

She so, so wished they were anywhere else but there.

He slowly pulled away.

Her breathing was erratic and stilted and her heart tripped over itself when his nose nuzzled hers, his forehead pressing to hers, creating a little cocoon where nothing existed but them. 

Oh-kay, she was clearly not as crazy as she thought… right?

Because _that_ … that had been…

Neither of them moved for a long moment before Oliver licked his lips.

It was stunningly sensual.

It was literally stunning what that simple act did to her.

“I wasn’t going to let that be our first kiss,” he said, his voice rough, but laughter still laced his words.

Felicity froze. “What?”

First kiss? Like… he’d thought about there being a first kiss?

He nodded before stepping away. He adjusted his jacket and pressed some of her hair off her face before picking up her clutch. She could only stare at him, not reacting to the rampant amusement in his eyes or the half-smile curling his lips. He handed the clutch to her and she numbly took it in both hands, still staring at him.

His hand lingered, his thumb brushing against her knuckles, and her lips parted in a gasp as that tiny touch alone sent sparks dancing across her nerves.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her hand slightly before letting it go. Right. Boss. Executive Assistant. “Let’s go find Diggle.”

Felicity didn’t move to follow him.

He realized that after about ten steps.

“Felicity,” Oliver said as he came back, shaking his head with a smile. He grabbed the clutch from her hand, holding it for her before wrapping her hand in his. “Come on.”

She let him tow her blindly before she stopped him right as they were about to enter the main room again. The room had a decidedly different glow than it had a few minutes ago and everyone was very hazy, but Oliver was crystal clear when she looked up at him.

He was still holding her hand.

“First kiss…” she said, repeating his words. “Did we just do a ‘be kind, rewind’ thing there? Did we just Blockbuster a kiss? Not that I’m complaining, because I think it was definitely worth the Blockbustering, it was definitely one of the best rewind kisses ever, if that’s even a thing… and I just compared our kiss to a VHS… I don’t even think anyone owns a VCR anymore.” 

Oliver smiled, and it was a full-blown, Oliver Queen smile that left her knees feeling weak.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think we did.” 

“Oh.” Wow. _Wow_. “Okay.”

When they found Diggle, he only had to take one look at them.

“Blockbuster,” Felicity blurted.

Diggle quirked an eyebrow. “Haven’t heard anyone call it that before.” 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tropes in fanfiction makes the world a freaking wonderful-er place. 
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	9. Not Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future fic. The house was silent when he got home…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - if-its-you-thats-asking asked: I just had one of the worst days ever. Would you mind writing any kind of fic with Oliver being being the one to comfort Felicity? Thanks, love!
> 
> *Angst Warning*

The house was silent when he got home… which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but on the night when it was their turn to host the weekly dinner?

It wasn’t good.

“Felicity?”

Silence.

Oliver paused, frowning, staring down the hall towards the kitchen, and then into the living room, and then further back into the dining room, which was partially set for the dinner.

Nothing.

A tiny surge of panic started nesting in his stomach and he shoved it down. 

Maybe they still needed something from the store (she’d specifically said no when he’d called earlier), or maybe they were out of wine (right, no, they’d just installed the cellar downstairs), or maybe…

Maybe she was just upstairs, or getting the mail, or anything.

They’d been married for three years already, and he still felt the ridiculous urge to freak whenever he couldn’t find her right away. Ever since Slade had escaped Lian Yu, taking her for real, not just as a game to lure him out, but to _hurt_ her… 

Well, it wasn’t something you just got over. An entire month of constant gut-numbing fear and terror followed by several months of nightmares (from both of them), of a constant push and pull from her (she went from clinging to him to wanting nothing to do with him within the space of a few days, and then a few hours), and finally therapy. 

He still didn’t know everything that had happened within that month when she’d been completely at Slade’s mercy…

But that was then, and this was now.

Oliver reigned himself in, and threw his keys on the side table, loosening his tie as he made his way upstairs.

His ears strained for _anything_ , but the house was silent.

“Felicity?”

He glanced into their shared study and the hall bathroom on his way to their bedroom - no Felicity - and he picked up the pace a bit, imagining seeing her on the bed, napping, or deep in the closet, unable to hear him from all the way downstairs, in the middle of changing, or wearing her earphones… anything but what the flip side of his mind was starting to conjure.

But she wasn’t in there.

It took him too long to realize the master bathroom door was shut, and when he finally did, he stopped, shutting his eyes in relief and exasperation with himself.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Oliver tossed it on the bed and knocked softly.

“Felicity? Are you in there?”

He heard a soft sniffle, and a heavy pause where his mind immediately started racing with every possible thing that could be wrong when she said, “Yeah.”

The sound of her voice - cracking, filled with tears and hitched like she couldn’t catch her breath - had him grabbing for the doorknob before he stopped himself. It was something they’d talked about, on the weekly visits when he went with her to the therapy sessions, about how his need to make sure she was okay was sometimes… overbearing.

He made a fist, pulling his hand back, and asked, “Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer right away, but she filled the silence with the sound of her blowing her nose, followed by a, “Yeah.”

Her need to be alone had been something that grated on him greatly - and he knew his desire to be near her, to hold her, to touch her, to make sure she was alright, to be there if she needed anything… he knew he was doing that for purely selfish reasons, his own desire to help. But he’d heeded her needs, listened when she said it was too much, and eventually she slowly let him back in, and he in turn slowly stopped feeling the extreme need to be _right there_ in case anything happened…

He was still learning how to deal with that last part.

Oliver opened the door.

“Felicity…”

She sat on the floor, leaning against the tub, half-dressed in a pair of boyshorts and a bright pink tanktop that was the complete antithesis to the pure anguish twisting her features. Her skin was red and agitated, her eyes puffy from crying. She rubbed a tissue under her nose, shaking her head, her face already scrunching with more tears.

“What happened?” Oliver asked quietly, stepping in and slowly crouching before her. She kept shaking her head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding quickly, closing her eyes as two more tears leaked free and she changed her mind, “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Oliver cupped her face and pressed his lips to her forehead.

A tiny sob escaped her throat, and she shuddered against him, pressing back; one hand wrapped around his arm, the other grabbing his shirt front, tugging him closer. Oliver did as she silently asked, sliding to sit down next to her. She burrowed into his arms, digging her face into his shoulder hard, and he wrapped her up, pulling her closer, and they just… sat.

For a minute.

Two minutes.

Longer.

“What happened?”

“I got a call,” she whispered. “From my mom. She told me that… that… that my dad, he…” A heavy stone settled on Oliver’s chest. Felicity took a deep breath, one that filled her entire body, and let it out, trying again, her voice coming out stronger. “He’s gone.”

“Oh, Felicity…” Oliver opened his mouth to say something more, to say anything, but he had nothing. Instead he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why I’m so emotional about it,” Felicity said. “I shouldn’t be… this crazy, right? I mean, he _left_. I mourned him then, I went through the motions - I hit every single step of grief, I did - because it was already a lot like he was… already dead, but this… this…”

A soft shiver rained through her body and he felt every inch of it as her voice filled with more and more emotion. Hot tears leaked through his shirt. Oliver waited, feeling more words building up inside her, doing the only thing he could do: hold her, be there for her.

“But I guess a part of me always knew that he was out there, that he was _somewhere_ , even if he wasn’t _here_ ,” Felicity continued, pointing at the tile for emphasis. “I mean, not here, in the bathroom, but here in the… somewhere. He was somewhere. Not… not somewhere. God, I’m not even making sense, this is ridiculous.”

Felicity sat up, shoving her face into her hands. Oliver watched her, wishing he could do something. Her body was wound tight with unshed tears, like she’d been fighting them for hours, fighting the inevitable.

“I don’t want to grieve him,” she whispered, and her voice grew louder as she continued, “I don’t want to be sad, because I was already sad, when he left, I was already sad, and how is that fair that he gets to have more sad? He doesn’t deserve more sad!”

She looked at him, and his heart broke at the abject misery viciously mixed with anger, frustration and pain.

“Why?” she whispered, shaking her head. “Why can’t I just…”

Oliver was moving before he could stop himself. Oliver lifted her up, crossing his legs, depositing her into his lap. He half-expected her to push him away, to tell him she needed a minute, and he’d have to sit across the room, _watching_ , instead of comforting, but she didn’t…

She let him.

Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his, her tears scorching him. She curled up against him, and he made soothing noises as she let go, grief wracking her body, leaving her trembling. Felicity pulled her legs up as close as she could, curling in on herself… and him. She leaned on him, letting him hold her.

She cried as he talked in a low voice, “You’re only human, Felicity, and he was your father. Nothing changes that - his choices, your choices, what happened, what didn’t happen… it still doesn’t change that he was your dad. You’re not grieving the man he became, you’re grieving the man he was, the man who was there, every day.

“It’s not in you to hate - it’s not. He was someone that touched your life, it’s okay to feel sad about that being gone. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not _fair_ ,” Felicity whispered and Oliver closed his eyes, his own tears welling with hers.

“I know,” he replied. “I know.”

Oliver slipped his phone out and sent a quick text to Thea to postpone dinner.

He put it on silent and slid it across the floor before he wrapped himself around his wife as she grieved for her father.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/120591604094/i-just-had-one-of-the-worst-days-ever-would-you)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	10. Birthday Strippers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Felicity's birthday, so of course her friends hire her a stripper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw Magic Mike XXL. It was _delightful_. I'm not quite sure what this was supposed to - I just had a lot of feelings after watching that movie.

The sound of her friends squealing and heels click-clacking all over her hardwood floor would have made her stand up and yell, “Absolutely not!” - especially when Cassie stood up and announced the “entertainment” had arrived. It would have, if she hadn’t been drunk. She wasn’t drunk drunk, but she was pretty drunk. Buzzed. Floating?

_Whatever._

It was her _birthday_. She was allowed to be drunk, and sit on a froofy chair - no, not froofy, it was one of her dining room chairs but it was decorated in a sash of penises. Wasn’t this bachelorette party stuff? Not birthday stuff. Although she couldn’t lie, she liked penises, but not on _everything -_ and to bury her face in her hands when she saw the man - and oh god, he was _delicious_  - stepping into her living room, wearing… a t-shirt and jeans?

Her friends were being too loud in the loose circle they had formed around her, only parting to let _him_  in. And oh god, how could someone make pants look that good? A t-shirt? He was wearing _jeans_ , this stripper was wearing _jeans_  but they were hugging him in the perfect places, and there was no way he was _that_ big, right? There was definitely a bulge, and it was definitely…

Felicity tore her eyes away from his crotch, blushing, trying to _not_  giggle like an idiot. But his arms, and his neck, and his chest and his… his everything. She felt her body tightening at the sight, her nipples hardening, her face flushing - no, no, that was in mortification, because Cassie had ordered her a freaking _stripper for her birthday,_ not because she’d definitely had enough alcohol to let her mind think about all the ways she could climb this tree of a man.

The beginnings of Ginuwine’s “Pony” starting in the background, accompanied by Cassie’s squeal of delight. Felicity groaned, biting her tongue to keep from grinning like a fool when he sauntered up to her. He cocked his head, wearing a confident smile.

He was _beautiful_ , his hair cropped short, his… _scruff scruffy._

Oh good god, was he scruffy - how was facial hair doing that to her? It was just _hair_ , but when he licked his lips, she squeezed her legs together because she could actually _feel_  that hair scraping her inner thighs, feel him digging his face deeper, his tongue…

Oh wow.

He leaned down, anchoring his hands on her seat, his warmth instantly surrounding her. Her breath hitched, her mouth going dry as he invaded her bubble and suddenly she didn’t hear the music or her friends or anything.

It was only _him_ , and she really should not be this turned on by a freaking random stranger in her house, who happened to be there to strip for her.

Right?

“Are you Felicity?”

“Uh…” Felicity blinked, and nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Last time I checked.”  


He smirked, and licked his bottom lip and _god_ , that wasn’t very nice. It took her a few seconds to realize that he was already moving, his hips jerking in time with the music, and her jaw fell when he dropped to his knees and pushed her legs open, sliding between them.

“Oh god,” she gasped, biting her lip, her body feeling very, very sensitive to… everything. This wasn’t normal. He gripped the back of her chair, yanking it so she slid forward on it and she _felt him_  and, “Oh my god.”  


He _was_ that big.

He leaned in, brushing his face against hers - he smelled _amazing_  - and whispered, “Happy birthday.”  


“What?” she breathed, but he was already pulling away. His hands grabbed hers - they were calloused, softened over the years but speaking of hardship early on - and pushed them up underneath his shirt. His hips were moving in time with the music, the chair scraping on the floor, but she barely heard any of it, her eyes locked with his.  


They were blue, and dark, and they were… looking right through her.

Felicity’s heart dropped as a wave of heat skated through her, heading straight for her core. If he saw the effect he was having on her, he didn’t mention it as he went through his routine… a routine that she was _overly aware of_.

With his guidance, she pulled his shirt off and he threw it away, someone squealing when they caught it. He yanked on the chair again, his hips _moving_  against her. Felicity gasped, naturally arching into him, her body honest to god moving of its own volition; for a split second, she swore she something spark in his eyes before he was up and straddling her.

Her hands were still in his and he guided them over his body - holy _shit,_ he was _perfect_  - every single ab was pronounced, and that beautiful vee heading straight for his… Her fingers tingled as he guided her hands over his body, and when she curled them in, scraping her nails down his sides and over his jeans, she wasn’t sure if she really caught that flicker on his face or if…

Felicity was pretty sure music was playing somewhere, judging by the way he gyrated over her, but she still couldn’t hear it. She could only _feel_  as he hovered over her, leaning in and out, his breath hot, his skin scorching her… she shivered, her thighs tightening and if he felt it, he didn’t give her any indication.

He suddenly stood up, and one second she was on the floor and the next he was _lifting the freaking chair_ , making her yelp in surprise, and spinning them, setting it down in time to push it up against a wall.

She’d been to a strip club before, she’d seen movie with strippers and seen… what the protocol was or whatever, but the main thing she’d noticed was that it wasn’t this… _connected_. 

His eyes never left hers.

Felicity could barely breathe as he moved away from her, his back falling against the wall right next to her, his hips rotating sensually as he… unbuttoned his jeans… right at her eye level, his beautiful body moving in a perfect.

“Oh wow,” she choked. She vaguely saw the dollars her friends were throwing, the low dim lights, the… really, she didn’t see much.  


She only saw him.

He spun off the wall and spun the chair again, keeping her anchored in it, dancing around her… The way he moved, the way his hips were… thrusting, oh god, he was… 

It took her far too long to realize that the heat pooling between her legs was very real, that her nipples were straining against the lace of her bra and that she was digging her nails into her thighs to keep from _touching_. Because she didn’t want to just _touch…_ she wanted to _touch._

Her mouth actually watered as his jeans started slowly slipping down his hips; her lips itched at the thought of what she’d find when those jeans were all the way down, around his feet, his…

He was back in front of her. She stared at him… his eyes still on hers… and then he bent down, his hands - those hands, she was going to definitely be dreaming about _those hands_  - sliding up her thighs. He pushed her legs up and slid them around her hips before he lifted her right up.

Felicity gasped to the chorus of her friends, her arms flying around his neck, plastering herself to him. He was pure muscle, the hidden power in his body rippling over him as he moved, his hips grinding against hers, and he was… _hard_ … no, no, she was imagining that.

She was definitely not imagining her reaction to him though… especially when he spun them right into a wall and he shoved her up against it, his body still moving in time with the music.

When his hard chest pressed against her breasts, she arched into him, unable to stop herself from reacting like they were actually…

No. This was just a dance.

_Just a dance._

Felicity clung to him, his eyes drilling into hers…

And then he slid her down the wall just as he thrust up against her - she was wearing a _very, very short skirt_  and barely legal underwear and she felt _everything._

And so did he.

The song ended with them just like that, her ankles locked around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, his muscles straining with the effort of holding her up… he was barely breathing, though, like she weighed nothing.

They didn’t move.

They just… stared.

After a minute that was nothing and everything at the same time, he set her down, his eyes never leaving hers, her friends rallying around them. She felt someone grabbing her, saw more dollar bills, but all she heard was her heart thundering in her ears because… because that wasn’t just…

This wasn’t _normal_.

Somehow the night moved on anyway.

He stayed, dancing with others, doing more routines, more music flooding the room, more alcohol flowing everywhere… but he didn’t get that close to anyone else.

And he didn’t dance with her again… until the end of the night, when the party died down, when it was just… her. And him.

And… she felt every inch of him again as they danced together in the center of the room, where she learned his name was Oliver - “Oliver…” - until someone clicked the music off.

Felicity had stopped drinking a while ago and the world had regained its clarity again… that didn’t mean Vodka Courage wasn’t still riding shotgun as she walked him to the door.

She opened, welcoming the rush of cool air against her heated skin, and turned to him. He didn’t step outside, just yet, and she licked his lips. His eyes dropped to her mouth, his lids growing slightly heavier.

“You don’t…” she started, feeling an ounce of trepidation for the first time that night. “You don’t sleep… with clients.”

Oliver quirked an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face. “No. I don’t.”

“So if I… asked you to stay… with me, in my bedroom, which is right over there…” His eyes slowly grew darker, and he took a step towards her again, invading her bubble… again. “You’d… you’d stay because you wanted to.”  


“Yes,” he breathed.  


“Oh,” she whispered. “Good… um, do you wan-”  


“Yes,” he said, and his mouth slanted over hers, cutting her off. Felicity moaned, pushing herself up onto her toes to get closer to him, opening herself to him with preamble. His tongue slid against hers and she sucked his into her mouth, digging her nails into the base of his neck, making him groan, and he shoved her back into the doorjamb with urgency.

She was vaguely aware of him pulling her close to him, moving them out of the way to close the door before he leaned down and picked her up…

Oliver made his way through the maze of bodies, cradling her close, the kiss never ending as he moved towards her bedroom…

When he thrust into her, her body more than primed for him, he buried his face against her neck, whispering, “Happy birthday.”

She gave him a giggle, pulling his face back to hers. He slipped his hands down her naked body, making her shiver as he pushed her legs up to her chest. He pulled out and thrust in, as deep as he could, making her gasp his name.  


Two years later, at their wedding rehearsal, Cassie gave the best maid of honor speech ever as she described how Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen first met.

The End


	11. Candid Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, one-shot. Felicity is the assistant to world-famous actor Oliver Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago, the lovely missystherya posted these tags: #Stephen Amell#my brain is frozen#how dare#so many olicity aus are popping into my head rn#and all of them include felicity getting hot and bothered when she sees this picture of oliver
> 
> A/N: This was supposed to be naughtier, but it wouldn’t go there! “He looked good, like sin in a suit” quote from Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr (via @olicitybaby4ever). Do I know anything about being a celebrity? Pffft.

The table was covered in scripts.

She was so _sick_ of reading scripts.

That was a lie. She actually loved reading scripts, but what she didn’t like was reading bad scripts. And about ninety percent of the scripts on this extra-tall table were bad scripts.

“Clichés, character tropes, way too much outer space without actually being in outer space,” Felicity murmured under her breath, giving up on the bundle of papers before her. She opened another sheaf of paper, flipping through it quickly, stopping at a random page. Her eyes scanned over the dialogue - why did anyone think it was a good idea for… “Oh.”

Her eyes caught on the transition scene, the very explicit transition scene. The words _‘Kale takes her panties off, and you get a shadowy glimpse of his hard…’_ lit up on the paper like they were actually glowing.

Felicity dropped the script like it was on fire, making a face and shoved it away.

“Does nobody have any respect for a contract anymore? No frontal nudity contract! It’s simple. It’s so simple, it’s even bolded, including _hints_ … and yet…” Felicity tossed the script into the ‘no’ pile. “People still send these to him. Why? Is the butt not enough?”

Oh.

The butt was enough.

It was more than enough.

“No,” Felicity said, shaking the thought from her head. She straightened her stack of ‘maybe’ scripts - it was a very _small_ pile, but at least there was something. “No, we are keeping the Bad Felicity thoughts at bay today, remember? You have about thirty more scripts to read-slash-skim through and thinking about _that_ will not help.”

She shouldn’t be left alone with her thoughts. It was oddly easier when he was around, like she saw that he was… well, he was him, and it helped seeing the lines she couldn’t cross.

Felicity loved her job. She honestly did, which was surprising considering she was the personal assistant to one Oliver Queen, he who started out as an underwear model before graduating to soap operas before graduating to movies before graduating into a television series before graduating into more movies while modeling and… and she was abusing the word ‘graduate.’ Long story short, the man was famous, and for good reason. He had the acting skill, and he had the looks - he was like Hollywood catnip.

But that wasn’t why she loved her job. No, it was because of the man himself. Ollie Queen, superstar, was very different from Oliver Queen, normal man. Like everyone else, she’d judged him by the way the world saw him: obnoxious, free-loving party boy who only stopped when someone was around to reign him in. On a logical level, it should have been hard to connect that persona with the actor who was always on time, never skipped a day, was nice and giving to everyone around him, including cast, crew, fans… assistants… but it was easy to get caught up in the tabloids, to see what the media sold him as, as well as the fact that he had been Ollie Queen before his father died and he disappeared out of the spotlight for five years before coming back stronger than ever.

Ollie Queen didn’t walk in after a long photoshoot, see the pile of fun his assistant was currently working on and offer to run out and get her coffee - the first time he offered, _“No, Mr. Queen, I’ll go, that’s what you hired me for,”_ he’d gently put his hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. _“Felicity, for the last time, call me Oliver. And I will get the coffee. I’ll be right back.”_ No, Oliver Queen did that.

But she hadn’t known that when she’d gone in for the interview, the interview she’d only been able to land because of a friend of a friend of Iris’.

She hadn’t known that when she’d called him a ‘shallow pretty boy who probably requires yellow M&M’s in his trailer and water that she personally has to bottle from the top of a terrifying mountain somewhere.’ She’d expected some laughter, some congeniality from her fellow interviewees… instead she’d immediately noticed them looking at her with shock, and one woman staring over Felicity’s shoulder with a ‘you just screwed yourself so bad, thank you for that’ look that had slowly made all her organs shrink in horrified realization.

The man himself had been standing _right there._

She’d slowly spun and looked up at him… To say he was prettier in person was like saying the sun lit up the world. Fact _._ Cold, hard fact, and one that she’d felt zipping through her at the rate of ‘oh my god, I want to climb you like a tree while snuggling in a hammock on a beach’ before she’d blushed so hard and fast she was sure she looked like a walking tomato because she’d just insulted the hell out of him.

He’d looked at her appraisingly, cocking his head before she blurted, _“I like yellow M &M’s too.”_

And then the quietest and most sincere smile she’d ever seen graced his face for a split second before he caught himself.

He’d hired her on the spot, and it had taken her only one minute to almost ruin it when she said, _“You’re lucky I’m competent, because that really wasn’t a very good business move, just hiring some stranger. What if I couldn’t count, or drive or… or realize when to shut up and just be grateful she has a job… three, two one…”_

It ended up working. Very well. Freakishly well. She now knew everything there was to know about Oliver Queen, from his personal identity information to the size of his shirt from that special Italian cloth maker, to the account numbers his financial people personally handled, to the fact that he didn’t like onions and sometimes ate her carrots when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Which was fine. Because she took his dried cranberries from the only salad he liked to eat.

They worked well together. He trusted her, she trusted him, it worked. It was why she hadn’t gotten fired when she’d told him she thought he was still trying to live up to his father’s expectations versus doing what he wanted to do after the first few times he’d asked for her opinion on some scripts - he hadn’t taken that very well, but after two days of cold shoulders and blank stares when she needed to talk to him, they’d exchanged apologies and he’d eventually asked her to help him review the bundles of scripts he received… which of course meant she took over the project because his idea of reviewing scripts was throwing them in a tub somewhere and every once in a while randomly picking some out to read.

She organized them per her favorites, what she thought his favorites might be, and color-coded them based on genre.

And then there was the pile that was just called: ‘Dear God No.’

The piles were especially big today.

He got _a lot_ of scripts, and she was kind of constantly amazed he remembered her system at all.

Highlighter hanging from her lips, Felicity stared at the pile of ‘to be read’ scripts and her shoulders slumped.

That coffee sounded pretty freaking amazing right about now - she was tired, and she was starting to get a little cranky because that script was the sixth in today’s batch on par with those awful 50 Shades books.

She’d told him to turn that role down, and thank the Google gods he’d listened.

“Felicity!”

Felicity’s head shot up to see Clairie Sald - assistant to Oliver’s manager - heading her way with a bundle in her arm.

Felicity kept her eye on the bundle, knowing exactly what they were. “I hope those are all pictures of puppy dogs.”

Clairie smirked. “I guess that depends on your definition of a puppy dog.” She pulled the top sheet off and flashed a candid shot of Oliver Queen himself from the shoot today. Oh… it was a good picture. Clairie looked at it, cocking her head. “He’s got more of that… Rottweiler look going for him here. Maybe a puppy Rottweiler?”

Felicity’s mouth went dry.

It was definitely something.

Did she mention that she sort of, kind of maybe harbored a gigantic crush on her boss that was so past the levels of appropriate that she constantly lived in rabid denial? An Oliver Land of Denial, all her own making?

No?

That’s because she was in denial about it.

Because her boss was gorgeous - you just had to have eyes to see that, and she most definitely had eyes - and everyone had some form of a crush on him. She was just another in a long line of others; it was a reaction to his looks and that smile and the smoldery thing he did and that he got her coffee.

That’s all it was.

Clairie didn’t notice Felicity’s pause as she handed the images over. “He needs to look through these for approvals.”

Felicity took them, giving her a smile. “Right. Will do.”

Clairie was already heading back out as she said over her shoulder, “By tomorrow, or Mr. Wilson will be down here to take an eye.” Felicity shuddered, just as she always did when he said that because the man was missing an eye himself. Clairie turned, walking backwards as she continued, “You know what he sounds like: ‘See how pretty the boy looks without an eye.’”

“Charming as ever, that Slade Wilson,” Felicity replied, waving. Clairie snorted, before disappearing, leaving Felicity alone in her office - rather, it was Oliver’s office, technically, not that an actor really _needed_ an office so much as a place to just put all his paperwork crap.

She meant to put the pictures aside, she really did, but that first picture… she didn’t want to look away. Felicity bit her lip, glancing around quickly, before picking it up.

It was… intense. Oliver was dressed to the nines in a suit, his beard closely cropped and trimmed, and his eyes… they were staring right at her - right through her. A warm flush skated over her skin as she stared at it, something making her chest feel very full. It wasn’t right that a picture could do so much to her… it was like a glimpse, of a different side of him that she never got to see, a more carnal side, one that she would never get a glimpse of because… _inappropriate_.

Felicity licked her lips and set it down.

She meant to turn back to her scripts… but instead her hand grazed the picture, actually _caressing_ the thing, before she stopped herself, making a fist.

“He looked good,” she whispered, remembering the words from that book she’d read… and one in which she might have used some real-life inspiration with while reading. Felicity bit her lip as she continued, “Like sin in a suit.”

She felt him before he said anything.

The air behind her changed as he stepped up to look over her shoulder, his face appearing next to hers, setting down their coffee on the table before she could fully comprehend any of it.

“Sin in a suit, huh?” Oliver said, his voice low, and Felicity yelped, her heart jumping right up her throat as she spun, nearly falling off the stool she was perched on. Before she knew what was happening, the stool tipped, gravity wrapping its weighty tendrils around her to tug her down to the hard ground before Oliver stopped her with a quick, “Whoa,” as he wrapped his arms around her waist, his other hand landing on the side of the stool to keep all its legs on the ground, and then it was over.

“Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me,” Felicity breathed, gripping his arm, her heart racing. At the sound of his light chuckle, she whipped her head back to glare at him. “Why were you sneaking? Nobody said you could sneak.”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Oliver replied, not moving as he looked at the picture over her shoulder again. Her eyes followed his and a wave of mortification - so potent she could taste it - washed over her. “You were just very… preoccupied.”

“Dust,” she blurted, letting go of him to grab the picture, wiping her hand across as her mind instantly told her, _‘No, that’s dumb, something else!’_ “I mean, a dot. A speck! There was a…” She pretended to pick something off the picture before presenting it to him. “All better. Just a spot. I was… cleaning… the spot. And now it’s gone, because I… cleaned it.”

The more her mouth babbled, the more she became ridiculously aware of the fact that he was _right there_. He was gripping the stool with both hands now, leaning over her shoulder - she could still feel the spot where he’d wrapped his arm around her; it was hot, very hot… like she’d been burned from her severe over-awareness of him. His face was an inch from hers and _god_ , he smelled amazing. He always smelled amazing, but this was a mixture of coffee and _Oliver_. And he was warm, like he was…

Felicity shook the thoughts from her head, putting the picture back in the pile and shoving them over her shoulder towards him, forcing him to step back. “Here. For you. Clairie just dropped them off with her daily threat from Slade.”

“Thanks.” He took the pictures, his fingers brushing across hers, making her heart jump. She hummed her response, her face still feeling far too warm, blindly grabbing her highlighter and the next script.

Oliver touched her shoulder, and her heart jumped again, a sharp stab of adrenaline spiking in her chest. He leaned in and her eyes closed when she felt the soft brush of his breath against her. “Coffee’s right there.”

Felicity jerked, her eyes flying to the coffee. “Right. Coffee.”

She didn’t have to look back to know he was smiling. He squeezed her shoulder and picked up his own coffee, and moved to the other side of the table, carefully avoiding her well-marked piles, his eyes on the pictures. Felicity took a careful sip of her coffee - it was perfect, just what she liked - and studiously avoided looking up at him as she stared unseeingly at the script before her. There were words, she was sure of it, words she should be reading… or skimming, she was definitely at the skimming stage at this point…

But she couldn’t see the stupid page.

He’d caught her staring at his picture.

Felicity’s eyes slipped shut for a microsecond as she full implication of that washed through her - and he’d _heard her_.

She’d never be able to look at him again - ever. She’d have to do her job without ever looking at her boss again… how was she going to do that? She would do it. She’d… do the look-over-his-shoulder thing, or stare at the space between his eyes, or just be really, really interested in everything else _but_ him.

She could do that, she could definitely do that.

Because if she had to look at him and see the realization that she’d worked really hard to hide that she _liked_ him was all for naught?

Yep, never looking at him again.

Felicity squeezed her highlighter into a tight fist; she could definitely do that. She felt something weirdly wet and squishy and it took her a second to realize she hadn’t recapped the stupid thing and she was coloring all over her palm with neon yellow.

“Guh,” she whispered, barely biting back her sound of distress, yanking the cap off from the other end and shoving it on the right end. Before she could stop herself, Felicity glanced at him, to see if he’d noticed, but he was slowly filtering through the pictures…

She rubbed her palm, smearing more of the highlighter onto her fingers. She made a face and wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Felicity.”

“Yes?” she replied instantly, her voice coming out too loud as her attention shot right back to the scripts. She didn’t look up at him.

“You’re fired.”

Her head shot up way too fast, so fast she felt her neck strain. “What?” She blinked at him, her mouth falling open as he just stared at her. She blinked, a white noise filling her head, her ears feeling really, really hot as she tried to re-hear what he’d just said to her. “You’re… what?”

Oliver dropped the picture he was holding and rounded the table again. She watched him, her brain unable to connect words. The heat in her ears spread to her face and down her chest like a sea of tiny spikes, making her skin feel really dry and itchy.

Felicity shook her head as she said, “Oliver, I didn’t… it wasn’t what you… I don’t know what-”

“Felicity,” he breathed.

Oliver leaned over her and cupped her face, cutting her off with his lips.

It was soft, so soft, so much softer than she could have ever imagined, and she instinctively melted into him, her hands grasping at his shirt.

Oliver was kissing her.

He was… kissing her… her mind blanked, sensation taking over…

After what felt like an eternity of… wow… Oliver pulled back, and Felicity… tried to remember how to breathe.

In, and out, in… and out.

Her eyes stayed close. Her lips were tingling; she licked them, tasting him… and then she realized he was still holding her, he hadn’t moved. She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him. His hands were so warm on her, his… he was so big, towering over her, cradling her like he was, and she realized with a serene start that she wasn’t feeling a nest of butterflies trying to eat their way out of her stomach or a rush of adrenaline making her limbs weak…

She was calm, entirely too calm… she felt… safe.

 _Cherished_.

_Whoa._

Oliver stared at her, his face soft… relaxed. 

Content.

He was usually nice and open with her, but there was always something else there, something that kept a strict line of professionalism…

That was gone.

“Am I dreaming?” Felicity whispered, and his eyes crinkled in a tiny smile.

“I don’t think so,” he replied and the words slowly penetrated her mind… but before she could fully comprehend them, he whispered, “Let’s double check,” and then he was kissing her again.

Felicity moaned softly, so softly she barely heard it; Oliver did though, and he took it as encouragement to press harder and she gasped, her hands flying up to grab his wrists, holding him closer to her as he took advantage of the tiny opening. His tongue ran across the seam of her lips, and she opened for him without hesitation. Oliver moaned, his grip on her tightening… and suddenly he was leaning in closer, nearly pushing her back against the table. Felicity sighed, giving herself over to him without hesitation, her hands flying his face, his stubble scraping at her palms deliciously as she arched up into him for more… and then she whimpered.

It was like something in him broke, and he groaned, pushing her back as far as he could against the table, his kiss becoming more demanding, more severe, like he couldn’t get enough and god, that was a heady feeling, one that left her head spinning, before he caught himself.

Oliver pulled back with a choked breath. Felicity held onto him, making sure he didn’t go very far as she whispered his name, pressing her forehead against his, barely thinking about what she was doing. He pressed back, nuzzling his nose with hers.

They stayed that way, breathing each other’s air, and it took her far too long to realize her back hurt because she was bent back over the table awkwardly.

But she didn’t want to move.

Oliver finally pulled back, and after a second she let go, but he didn’t move out of her bubble, his hands still cupping her face. She swallowed, opening her mouth to speak, but… nothing came out.

“Uh…” She said the first thing that came to mind. “Are you firing me for sexual harassment?”

Oliver blinked, stunned, and then he laughed, the sound morphing into a full-on, make-her-knees-weak kind of smile that had her stomach dropping. His eyes never left her face, dancing all over her features, like he was drinking her in.

Okay, wow, that was intoxicating, having all that… all that _Oliverness_ directed on her.

“No,” he said softly. “I didn’t want it to be a reason for you to say no when I ask you out.”

“What?” Felicity asked dumbly.

He was still smiling as he asked, “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

Felicity froze. She didn’t even blink as her mind raced to make sense of what the hell was happening right then. How had she gone from being someone who was lusting after one of the hottest men on the planet to him… actually asking _her_ out? _Her_? Why her? Was this some sort of cosmic joke, was she on a reality TV show - had he agreed to do a reality TV show and not _told her_?

She wasn’t sure how long she was silent before the little line between Oliver’s brows suddenly appeared. He frowned, his eyes searching hers and then he suddenly let go of her face, his hands dropping like weights back to his side where he started rubbing his thumb against his index finger, like he did when he was agitated or nervous.

“The kiss was too much,” he said, licking his lips and he stepped back. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I thou-”

“Oliver, stop,” she said, pushing off the stool onto unsteady legs. It was his turn to freeze as he watched her approach him. “Oliver, are you… asking me out? On a date, like a… date-date?”

“Well…” He licked his lips again. “I mean, the… implication that dinner is the… we would be-”

“Usually I’m the one talking in sentence fragments,” she said, cutting him off with a tiny smile, and he paused, staring at her… almost like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing before a beatific smile crossed his lips.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m asking you out on a date-date.”

“Oh wow,” she said, her mind short-circuiting again and Oliver, instead of backing away again dipped his head down to capture her eye.

“Is that a good wow?” he asked tentatively.

 _Oliver Queen_ was being _tentative_ with her.

“It’s a very good wow,” Felicity replied. “Very, very, very… very good, very-”

Oliver grinned, and his lips slanted over hers again, swallowing the rest of her words.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That got long - this was supposed to be a smutty piece, and then the story wanted to be an actual story, about love and stuff.
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	12. Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One-shot. Oliver and Felicity are best friends, and that's that... except they're also ridiculously in love with each other, and Diggle's the only one willing to say anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous asked: BRE OMG the last post on FB I need another SA in my bed can I have him? If I can't please write something with that smile while drinking coffee and him and Felicity in the car. I need it like air...

  
  
(gif via callistawolf)

Her phone would not stop _ringing_.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Felicity breathed as she ran out of the bathroom, her very dry towel covering her still very unshowered body. She’d barely rolled out of bed a few minutes ago, popping her head up out of her pillow fortress only to see she’d slept in.

_A lot._

She’d stayed up all night trying to finish up fixing one of her client’s computers, and she definitely looked it - hair bedraggled, makeup smudged, possible drool covering one cheek. She glanced at the clock and saw she still had about fifteen minutes before the boys were due to pick her up.

“If this is…”

Felicity snatched her phone up and saw Oliver’s smiling face staring back at her. She huffed, rolling her eyes so hard it hurt. And instead of calling like a normal person, he was insisting on FaceTime, again. The jerk always wanted to do FaceTime - _always_. 

_“I like to be prepared for what I’m gonna get before you open the door.”_  


She’d smacked him upside the head for that remark. She’d done that a lot over the last ten years - Oliver getting smacked in the back of the head, and John getting her ‘can you believe this idiot’ looks, ones he always reciprocated.

Felicity closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“What?” she asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance or the fact that she was totally naked and had just rolled out of bed.

Being Oliver Queen’s best friend was not easy, at all. She’d started hanging out with him because Sara hung out with him, much to her chagrin at the time. 

_“Oliver Queen, Sara? The Oliver Queen, really? How do you even know him?”_

He’d turned out to be… different. He was just a normal guy who had a reputation for being one version of himself but was someone else entirely in reality. It had been endearing, and they’d clicked, but that’s where it stopped - it was never more than friendship. She’d secretly - alright, maybe not so secretly, because everyone _but_  Oliver seemed to notice - hoped it would turn into more, but it never did, ever.  


Life was not like the movies. 

In the movies when two people accidentally grazed hands, their fingers linked and they looked into each other’s eyes and the heaven’s opened and sang down upon them. Her life was her best friend turning around and digging his knuckles into her head while laughing, or looking entirely uninterested when he saw her in her bra while changing.

That hadn’t stopped her from pining, and she didn’t just pine - she _pined,_ to the point she’d cried herself to sleep when he’d cancelled a night of hanging out to go on a date with Helena. It hadn’t just been any night - it had been her pre-birthday celebration, the one they always did ever since he’d been out of town on her birthday one year. It was going to be just them, because Diggle was sick, and then… 

Oliver had called, saying something came up. 

And when Felicity went out for ice cream, she’d seen them. Watching him wrap his arm around Helena’s shoulder, pressing his lips to her temple, trying to steal her fries… it’d been the last straw.

She was done pining over Oliver Queen. That was also the night she met Cooper - which was a history nobody wanted to relive, but either way, seeing Oliver that night, meeting Cooper… it’d broken her - _finally._  It’d been like a giant weight lifting off her shoulders: Oliver was just a friend, he would always be just a friend - her very, very ridiculously and borderline disgustingly _hot_  friend, but just a friend.

She was over him.

So she could answer the phone knowing she looked like absolute hell, not feeling an ounce of shame whatsoever. It also meant she felt very comfortable glaring at him as he said, his voice raised to contend with the wind whipping through the car from an open window, “That’s not a very nice good morning.” 

Felicity narrowed her eyes, fighting the urge to flip him off - the very grumpy aftereffects of no sleep and no coffee yet mixed in with running late was making her grouchy; she wasn’t in the mood for his shenanigans. “I’ve got a nice good morning for you when you get here, Queen.”

Oliver glanced at Diggle, saying, “Roll up your window, I can’t hear her.” Diggle said something she couldn’t hear before the wind disappeared and then Oliver was looking at her again. “We’re almost there.”  


“What? The heck you are,” Felicity replied, shoving the towel under her arms so she could point at him. “You guys said nine - I _heard_ it, I _remember_ it. It’s barely eight forty-five.”  


“Well somebody’s in a good mood this morning.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, mister. I haven’t had coffee and I haven’t showered yet.”  


Oliver’s eyes danced down her neck. “You just woke up, didn’t you?”  


“Pfft, no,” Felicity said, making a face. “I just got done… doing sit-ups. That’s why i look all…” She waved her hand around her face. “ _Unkempt_.”  


“Right. That’s why I can see that crease on your neck you only get when you sleep in that flannel thing.”  


Felicity glared at him, and he gave her a scrunchy-nosed smile in return.

“And last time I checked,” Oliver continued, “Your hair doesn’t stick up like that after your five sit-ups.”  


“I do six now,” she immediately retorted.

Oliver huffed a laugh at that, and she felt some of her grumpiness start to slip away. She smiled despite herself. He’d always done that, that little chuckle of amusement - it wasn’t at her expense, but _with_ her. He’d always been good at making her feel so at ease.

No wonder she’d once upon a time fallen for him like a rock being flung off a cliff, slamming face-first into the ground.  


“Fine,” Felicity relented, still holding the phone before her as she turned and headed back to the bathroom. “I did just wake up. I didn’t go to bed until two.”  


“You’re still working on the computer from that Palmer guy?”   


“Yes, Oliver, yes, I am still working on that Palmer guy’s computer. It’s finishing diagnostics actually,” Felicity said. She stopped and craned her head to look at her dining room table - it was less table, and more object-holding-far-too-many-computer-parts. “And thank the Google gods it’s almost done.” She went into the bathroom. “I’m seeing him tonight.”  


“To drop it off?” Oliver asked and Felicity gave him a look.  


“No, Oliver, to do the Pachanga,”  


Oliver grunted, his eyes watching the road for a second as he said, “He does remind me of Neil.”

Felicity paused, staring at him. “I can’t believe you remember enough of that movie to make an actual reference… and no way does Ray look anything like Neil.”  


“I didn’t say he looked like Neil, I said he  _reminds_  me of Neil. He’s just… _wormy_. And you shouldn’t be surprised, you made me watch that stupid thing ninety times.”  


Felicity guffawed as she reached into the shower to turn it on. “Ninety times? Take off your exaggeration cap, Oliver, it was more like two, maybe three.”  


“Felt like ninety.”  


“You loved every second of it,” she retorted.

He snorted in reply, just as she heard Diggle in the background, “He did. I heard him practicing his ‘nobody puts baby in the corner’ how many times?”

Felicity laughed as Oliver said to Diggle, “Fuck off, I did not,” which only made her giggle more. 

“Alright, no, he didn’t go there,” Diggle said. “But he did say, ‘I carried a watermelon’ for five days straight.”

“Oh my god, he did, I forgot he did that,” Felicity said, laughter choking her words as she covered her face.

“What, it’s classic,” Oliver deadpanned. “’I carried a watermelon.’ Who says that?”

“I say that,” Felicity said sardonically. “In fact I have said that, remember? Except it was a, ‘I brought the bottle opener.”

Oliver laughed, a full-bodied laugh that made the phone shake as he remembered that weekend at Lake Tahoe. “Oh yeah. At least you don’t have spaghetti arms.”

“Spaghetti arms! Give me some tension please!” Felicity replied with a snort, moving to wave her arm but she almost lost her towel as steam filled the bathroom. 

“You need to hold the frame, Felicity,” Oliver said, making her laugh again. 

It was the stupidest thing to laugh about, but it got her every single time. It was one of her favorite parts of the movie, when Johnny was teaching Baby how to dance - Felicity called it the Spaghetti Arms Sequence, to which Oliver had laughed good and long - for the duration of the rest of the movie, Oliver had lifted her arm, smacking her inner forearm, demanding a proper frame.

Oliver could be such a boob.

Her laughter dissolved into giggle snorts before she finally took a deep breath, licking her lips as she focused on the phone again, long enough to catch him staring at her, a little grin on his face…

And as he looked at her - his eyes bright, crinkling at the corners, delight filling every inch of his face - for a split second she felt… a  _something_  fluttering in her stomach, a something that made her heart flip before she shoved it away. 

No, no feelings allowed here. Something’s were bad. So bad.

Despite that, she didn’t look away; she _couldn’t_. 

He was just so… _Oliver_. 

Neither of them spoke for a second - a second that felt like an eternity - until Oliver finally looked away, lifting a cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oliver,” she gasped as he took a drink. “You guys got coffee without me?”  


He swallowed quickly, shaking his head. “We got yours too, don’t worry. I do like living, remember.”

She’d threatened him with a spork the last time they stopped for coffee before picking her up. Who does that, honestly? Why not wait for the entire group so everyone could be caffeinated in one stop instead of having to go back to Starbucks for more coffee… _honestly_. 

It was _logical_.

“How many shots?” she asked.

He gave her a look, a look she returned.  


“Four,” he replied with borderline exasperation. “Just like every other Saturday.”  


Felicity nodded. “Good, that’s what I like to hear. Otherwise I’d be forcing you to take me back right now to fix it. I don’t care how bed-ugly I look, you don’t mess with my espresso.”   


“You look beautiful, Felicity,” Oliver replied with a soft smile, and those butterflies attacked all over again before she shut them down. _Again_. He suddenly shook his head. “When you wake up, I mean. There’s no bed-ugly.”  


“Right. Well… I think that is a matter up for debate,” Felicity replied, pointing to her chin. “Look here, evidence - I’m pretty sure that’s drool.”  


“Felicity, you do not drool that much,” Oliver said.  


“Not as much as you, that’s for sure.”  


“I do not-”  


“Alright, you two, that’s enough,” Diggle said, cutting Oliver off. She watched Oliver turn to look at him as Diggle continued, “Felicity, we’re almost there.”  


“Well,” Felicity said, and Oliver was back to looking at her. “I still haven’t taken a shower yet.” She gave him a pointed look, which made him give her that stupid scrunchy-nosed smile thing he did. “Just let yourselves in.”

“Okay.”

“And because you’re early, if you wanted to clean the dishes in the sink, I wouldn’t argue.”  


*

Oliver raised an eyebrow as she gave him a bright smile before hanging up, not giving him the chance to respond.

“Oliver,” Diggle said as they turned onto Felicity’s street. “I swear to god, if you don’t just get it over with and ask her out, I’ll be the one stabbing you with a spork.”  


The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got long on me - I wanted to touch on a different dynamic between Olicity, once I’ve never tried before - such a close friendship between two idiots clearly in love. I wrote and edited this through yesterday afternoon, last night and all day today. I just want it out of my drafts at this point!
> 
> Also, please refer to my tags for some Neil Kellerman outrage. I feel what Oliver says about the Neil and Ray comparison. I get you, Oliver: #guess what i watched last night #that's right i watched dirty dancing #it's a goddamn classic damn it #freaking neil #how about we end with the pachanga #how about no we don't neil #felicity agrees obviously on a subconscious level #that ray is very neil #this was fueled by my neil annoyance #ugh #that neil
> 
>  
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/126034474129/bre-omg-the-last-post-on-fb-i-need-another-sa-in)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	13. How I Met Your Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous asked: I absolutely love your writing so I was wondering if maybe you could write something about oliver and felicity going to the same college and meeting for the first time while they are both doing the walk of shame one morning?? haha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love poured out during Fanfiction Writer Appreciation Day, and I got super emotional over here. I’m so appreciative that you’ve all stuck with me and my stories, that you guys read my fanfiction at all, because it means so much. None of us writers would be where we are without you beautiful people reading them, without your guys’ support, for reblogging, for commenting, for kudos, favorites, for wanting to be in the Beautiful Human Squad… for everything. Thank you!

“Shoes,” Felicity whispered under her breath, looking around the room frantically. “Shoes, shoes, shoes…”

They were _somewhere_. She remembered having them _on_ , so they had to be in the room, but…

But she couldn’t find them.

They were bright pink high heels, how could they…

“Ah!” she said when she spotted them, and her hand immediately flew to cover her mouth as she spun to see if she’d woken him. 

The bump under the comforter shifted a little, some weird murmurings coming from underneath it before settling again.

Making a face and taking a quiet breath, Felicity crab-walked over to her heels poking out from underneath his jeans, pulling them out as softly as she could - it would be just her luck that the rustle of clothes would be the thing to wake him up, and then he’d see her, and then he’d want to talk, and he definitely seemed like the kind of guy that would want a _scone_ or something, and then they’d have to do _that talk_ because she didn’t want to do this again, and based on how he’d been curled around her like a pretzel, he definitely _did_ … 

She was so not in the mood for that talk. Nobody was ever actually in the _mood_ for that talk, and yet people still insisted on having it.

He moved again and Felicity froze, closing her eyes, but he still didn’t wake.

She stood quickly, shoes dangling from her fingers as she darted for the door, her bag bumping against her butt. The sun was starting to crest over the horizon, filling the room with a soft, dusky orange that might have been romantic in the movies, but was only telling her _‘get out, get out now before  you find out he’s that weirdo who wakes up when the sun rises!’_

He wasn’t a bad guy, exactly - he had a decent sense of humor and he’d been pretty okay last night - he’d made her come once, which was nice, about a hundred times better than most of the guys she’d fallen into bed with.

“Oh, that’s a charming way to say it,” Felicity said as she opened the door - _slowly_ \- taking baby steps out before quietly shutting it behind her. The door stuck a little, and she winced, tugging it shut, pausing like a boob - instead of just _running_ \- waiting to hear any movement from inside.

Silence.

She let out a relieved breath, her shoulders falling. “Alright, I think I’ve earned those two extra shots.”

Felicity glanced around the hallway, sighing again when she saw she was blissfully alone - thankfully all these people were normal; or not waking up in a place they definitely did not want to be, forcing them to get up at the ass-crack of dawn. She wasn’t _ashamed_ of the fact that she’d stayed the night; she had sex and she liked it. What she was ashamed of was that she probably _looked_ it.

What kind of person didn’t have a mirror of some kind in their room?

“Heathen,” she said softy, making herself chuckle as she made her way to the stairwell, her exit of choice on these particular mornings; few people used it, especially in a building like this which touted fourteen floors. The one time she’d thought it was early enough to get away with using the elevator she’d been wrong - so very wrong - and that wasn’t an experience she wished to relive. Ever. The guy who’d joined her was nice enough, except he’d also caught the guy she’d just left in bed exiting his room, and then he’d proceeded to _hold the stupid door open for him_ so he could catch up to her.

So… stairs.

Safe, one-night stand-free stairs.

And hey, _exercise_.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee,” Felicity sang, shoving the door open, preparing to run down the stairs as she continued, “You’re the one! You make waking up like this so…” But instead of open air, there was a body, a very, very solid body.

She barely heard the, “Hey, that…” before she ran face-first into the very solid - and very unkempt - chest, hitting it so hard it shoved the guy back few paces, taking her with him.

Felicity let out a sharp, “Eep!” right in tune with his heavy, “Oof!” as they stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into the wall of the staircase that suddenly seemed way too small, because the stairs going down were _right there_ , and if they hit the wall, they’d probably bounce off it and fall down them and that…

The guy stopped them right before his back collided with the wall, his arms slipping around her when her feet decided to stop working, and she collided full-body with him.

He was  _compact._

Felicity was overly aware of every single inch of him pressed up against her in that way that felt like maybe she was dreaming.

Except this wasn’t a dream.

And she’d almost shoved him right down the stairs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Felicity said, gesturing at the stairs. “I didn’t see you, I was just so excited to just get out of here, and…” And then she _saw_ him and her jaw dropped. “And… wow, you’re really beautiful.”

He laughed, his face splitting into a ridiculously gorgeous smile that made her stomach drop.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes dancing all over her. “You’re really beautiful too.”

Felicity blinked, and then she blushed - because he was _gorgeous_ , and she would have to be an idiot to not appreciate someone _that_ gorgeous saying such sweet things to her - before realizing what she probably looked like.

Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh no, I couldn’t be. I mean, normally I am. I think so, at least, but right now, I probably have drool dried on my cheek, and eyeliner on my nose, and lipstick all… bunched in the corners… But _you_ , you’re…” She shook her head as she took him in - _because_ _gorgeous_ \- before she saw his neck. Her lips made a little ‘o’ shape at the angry hickey under his jawline, and what looked like scratches down the other side. Her eyes flew back to his. “You’re sneaking away too, aren’t you?”

He furrowed his brow, the smile disappearing as he said, “Excuse me?”

_Or not._

“Oh god.” Felicity’s eyes slammed shut. “I didn’t mean… like you were doing something _wrong_ , because you’re not, because I’m not. I mean, we’re consenting adults, we can…” She opened her eyes to an adorable half-smile tugging at his lips as she babbled, and she blushed so fast and hot it scorched her. “I mean, we can sleep with whoever we want. Not that we do, not that you do! I… this is something you talk to about with a random stranger.”

He laughed again, the sound making her chest ache and she stared at him, wondering if maybe it was the lack of sleep on her part or lack of coffee, but she just could not comprehend that that laugh… even his _laugh_ was gorgeous, what was he?

It took her far too many seconds to realize they were still just _standing_ in the stairwell, and they were… holding each other. His fingers pressed gently into her waist and the easy pressure had her skin catching on fire with such an intense awareness, she gasped, and clenched his biceps harder where she was holding onto him - onto his _literal steel_ arms.

_What was she doing?_

“Oh! Sorry!” she said, pushing away from him. “Sorry about…” She waved at him with her free hand. “Invading your bubble. I’m not usually a bubble invader. I try not to be, that is.”

“You’re fine,” he said, his smile only growing wider as she stepped back a few paces, her heels clicking together, making her really realize how _tall_ he was.

And she was so short.

Because she was barefoot.

Because she’d been sneaking out of Ray’s room.

They stared at each other for a second, neither moving.

Felicity’s mind raced, trying to find something to say that wasn’t completely _asinine_.

_‘Why are your eyes so dazzling?’_

_‘Is this weird? I hope not because I think you’re kinda cute and you’re making my heart do that weird clench-y thing that only happens when I’m either having a panic attack or around someone really beautiful… and what does that say about me picking you up after I just snuck out of another guy’s room?’_

_‘Are your muscles as pretty as your face?’_

_‘Kiss me?’_

“I was actually sneaking away too,” he said, his voice pitched low as he angled his head towards her like a co-conspirator.

“Okay,” she said absently, before the meaning of his words caught up to her. “Oh! Good! I mean, not good. Or is it good? You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s okay,” he said, still smiling _that smile_ , and she wondered how she thought he could look _so good_ , especially with a freaking _hickey_ on his neck, one that was not from her at that. Well, that didn’t take a genius, that was probably because she wouldn’t mind giving him one herself; not that she would offer to do that, because you don’t just offer random strangers _hickies_ …

He chuckled, his eyes narrowing like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and Felicity closed her eyes in mortification. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I really need to work on that filter thing between my brain and my mouth. I was born without one.”

“No, I like it. It’s refreshing,” he said, and she gave him a breathless chuckle, because what was she supposed to say to that? Refreshing that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut, or that she was thinking about giving strangers hickies? “And it is good.”

“What?”

“Me… sneaking away.” He suddenly glanced at the closed door and she followed his eyes as if someone was standing behind her. “So you were… leaving somewhere too?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding… nodding so much she had to stop herself. “Yes, I am… I’m actually getting coffee. I will be, that is, because I need coffee. It’s way too early to be awake.”

He opened his mouth before closing it, and a wild thought ran through her head, _‘Oh god, he’s trying to get away from me,’_ before he pinched his lips, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Do you think I could join you?”

Felicity’s heart stopped. He… “What?”

“Coffee,” he said. “I want… if you don’t mind, that is, because I know we just… met.”

Felicity could only stare at him. After thinking she was the crazy one here, being way too attracted to him and knowing the second she said anything, she’d get a look because _hello_ … but _he_ was asking _her_ out?

A brush of uncertainty swept over his face. “Under slightly weird circumstances… I didn’t mean to…”

Felicity smiled, because how was the incredibly hot man - a man who had no business being so stutter-y - so incredibly cute?

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said.

“No. No, you’re not. I just… I thought I was the only one who talked in sentence fragments,” Felicity said, and he paused, furrowing his brow at her before he let out a breathy little chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine. She did the crazy nodding thing again, but she couldn’t stop herself this time. “And yes. I would like that. A lot.”

“Good.” He grinned - _by the Google gods_ , that grin should be _illegal_ \- and nodded. “Good. Well…” He waved at the stairs. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you.” Felicity smiled, giving him a little nod as she turned to the stairs. His hand found her lower back - and _wow_ , it was like electricity skating right across every inch of her body, making her heart falter. She took one step down before turning back to him, emphasizing the height difference between them, forcing her to look further up. “You’re…?”

“Oliver,” he said, holding his hand out. “Queen. Oliver Queen.”

“Felicity. Is me,” she said, placing her hand in his - his touch was so warm it made her skin tingle. “Smoak.”

The way he looked at her had butterflies jumping up her throat. “It’s very nice to meet you, Felicity Smoak.”

Felicity felt the sudden urge to pinch her lips to keep herself from grinning like a complete idiot as she said, “You too, Oliver Queen.”

He bit his bottom lip, smiling softly. She returned it before turning to continue down the stairs… but her foot missed the next one, and she would’ve fallen and cracked her stupid head open had Oliver not been there to catch her.

*

“And that, baby girl, is the story of how I met your mother.”

“Oliver!”

“What?” Oliver asked, glancing over from where he was hanging on the edge of the crib. Felicity stepped closer, slapping his shoulder, looking every inch the new mother that she was - her hair was up in a loose bun, frizzy and slept on, her shirt - rather, _his_ shirt - covered in spit-up and dried drool, eyes smudged with makeup she hadn’t yet bothered removing from the day before; she was _stunning_ , in the way that still made his heart skip a beat, the way it always did whenever he looked at her; she was just as stunning as the day he’d met her. “It’s true.”

“I really don’t think we should be telling our four-month daughter about our walks of shame,” Felicity said, perching next to him. “At least wait until she’s eighteen.”

Oliver gave her a look - he’d already informed his wife that Evie was never dating, not ever. 

She gave him a soft, serene smile, one that immediately brought one to his face.

Oliver tipped his face closer to hers for a kiss, and she hummed, leaning into it when Evie made a little noise. They both looked down at the same time, and Evie blinked up at them with bright cerulean eyes, a ghost of smile skating over her perfect little lips when she saw she had both her parents’ attention again, little hands fisting at the empty air.

Oliver thought he’d been complete when he’d met Felicity that day; her presence had filled in all the missing spots in his life, ones he hadn’t even known were there. She’d given him a new purpose, a new light at the end of the tunnel… It hadn’t been easy, living so far apart, but they’d made it work; especially when it got worse before it turned into _this._ He’d been so perfectly happy and at peace the day he said, _‘I do,’_ when they’d bought their first house, when she’d sold her company, when he’d built his from the ground up, with _everything,_ because as long as he had her, everything _was_ perfect.

But then she got pregnant, and his definition of ‘perfectly happy’ had changed the second her thirty-four hour labor - and four ice cups flying at his head on the cusp of the most vile curse words he’d ever heard - to give him his beautiful Evie… his beautiful, perfect daughter.

Felicity had given him the entire world that day, all because they were in that little stairwell at the same time, in a building neither of them lived in, in a city he was only visiting for the weekend…

“That day changed my life,” he said softly. Oliver caught his wife blinking rapidly out the corner of his eye as he reached into the crib, placing his hand over Evie’s warm stomach. She was so tiny still, his hand making her look even smaller, and she gurgled at him, her little hands covering his.

Felicity leaned against him, pressing her face to his shoulder, giving him a soft, loving kiss that made his chest ache.

“Do you know how many times I thought about thanking Ray?” he asked. Felicity giggle-snorted. “He probably wouldn’t appreciate that very much.”

Felicity sighed, turning to rest her cheek against him. “Probably about as much as Isabel would.”

Oliver chuckled, nodding his agreement.

A long moment passed, both of them standing there, watching their daughter, watching every little move she made, every breath she took, every sigh she gave, every little twitch and movement and… everything, just _reveling_. Reveling in the memories - the coffee date that turned into a real date, that quickly turned into more dates, morphing into a couple years-worth of dates followed by an engagement - one that nearly broke them apart - and then marriage, settling down, _living,_ and then… _Evie._

“I love you,” Felicity said softly, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love you too.”

Oliver turned, pressing a kiss to her forehead, taking a second to close his eyes, inhaling her scent - the perfect mixture of his wife and his daughter - before looking back down at the little life they’d created.

He sighed.

It hadn’t been easy, but every single second was worth it.

Life was perfect.

The End 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/127288498099/i-absolutely-love-your-writing-so-i-was-wondering)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	14. Broken Computers, Cute Strangers and Burnt Muffins, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bratva/A.R.G.U.S. AU. Oliver and Felicity meet when she fixes his computer… but neither of them are what they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - superhero-bastards asked: Prompt: AU. Oliver takes his computer to the shop to have it fixed. By chance, Felicity is also there at the same time to buy some parts. They don't know each other, but the employee trying to fix Oliver's computer is just SO WRONG so Felicity takes the computer from him and fixes is herself. (Major bonus points if you can somehow turn this into smile but it's not obligatory.)

“It’s still doing it?” 

Oliver closed his eyes.

He took a deep, calming breath before opening them again, giving the young guy behind the counter a patient smile… as patient a smile as he could muster, at least; it felt more like someone was cutting garish line across his face to form the caricature of a human smile than an actual _smile_ , but at least it was _something_.

“Yes,” Oliver said, sliding his laptop across the counter. “It’s still doing it. It’s _been_ doing it. It stopped for a few hours last night and when I got back on it this morning, it was clicking and shorting out again.” Oliver’s eyes danced down to his nametag to make sure he’d remembered his name right - _Craig_ \-  before looking back up at him. “Craig, I’ve already had to recreate two projects from scratch. If I have to do a third one, I might kill someone.”

“I thought I…” Craig let out a heavy puff of air and nodded. “Alright, I know something else we can try. Let me…”

“Try?” Oliver repeated slowly, his voice dropping an octave. _Try?_ He bit the tip of his tongue to keep the rest of the _‘are you fucking kidding me?’_ from spilling out as he narrowed his eyes, his eyebrows inching up.

Craig’s face lost about four shades of color.

“No try. I meant do, I’ll do. There is no try, right?” he asked, an awkward laugh slipping out.

Oliver just blinked.

“Sorry, that was dumb. Not a Star Wars fan, huh?”

Oliver _felt_ the exasperation twisting his face.

”No, right, sorry, okay. Uh, will you be leaving it again?”

“No, I need it fixed. _Yesterday_. Like it was supposed to be.”

“Right.” Craig nodded. “Okay, let me just… get my stuff.”

An hour later, Oliver had made his way around the entire story three times - he’d rearranged wires into color groups, got a spiel for the store credit card in way more detail than he wanted, watched the same commercial over and over with a five year old while his mom shopped, and spent way too much time trying to make a pen stand on its own before finally standing at the Tech Help counter, watching Craig take his laptop apart - _again_ \- and just… stare at it.

Customers came and went, only one man making his way back to the Tech Help desk with a question. Everyone else was in and out, getting what they wanted, leaving happy with their new product while Oliver was stuck in the back, with Craig… Craig who was gnawing on his bottom lip, his head bouncing as he stared at the desktop screen on the counter, the one Oliver’s laptop was currently hooked up to, his eyes darting across the screen way too fast.

Oliver was starting to wonder if he was just moving his eyes to make it look like he knew what he was doing, when in reality he didn’t have a clue.

_Great._

Craig suddenly nodded as the bell over the main entrance tinkled again, alerting one of the sales associates to a new customer. “Hi, welcome to Tech Hut!” echoed from the front as Craig said, “I need another piece.”

“What piece?” Oliver asked wearily and Craig pointed over his shoulder.

“We have it,” he said. “In the back, we have it. I’ll be right back.”

Before he could get a word in, the kid disappeared.

“Oh my god,” Oliver groaned, letting his head drop, scraping his thumb against the side of his index finger until the skin burned.

“Computer problems?” a bright voice asked behind him, making him jump - he hadn’t even heard someone _moving_ , much less anyone coming up behind him - just before a woman stepped up next to him.

The length of her body brushed against his for a quick second, her arm _lingering_ again his in a way that made his skin feel like it was on fire - the abrupt and over _awareness_ of her and the parts of him she touched left Oliver reeling.

Oliver’s head flew up as she stood up on her toes and leaned over the counter, angling herself to look at the desktop screen, and all he saw for a moment was long blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail draped over a lithe body that seemed to go on forever where she was stretched over the counter…

“Uh…” he said, blinking.

Her jacket slipped up, revealing her naked lower back and jeans that were quite…

 _Low_.

“I…”

He couldn’t remember what she’d asked.

She reached over, tapping something on Craig’s keyboard, her jacket going with her, revealing more skin… Oliver’s body tightened, all the air leaving his lungs as his fingers actually tingled with the desire to touch her. He could perfectly picture reaching over and setting his hand on her back, knew she’d be soft and that he’d feel her shiver as he pushed it up her spine, following until he reached her thin bra…

She’d be warm, he knew it, warm and _responsive_ …

What the _hell_ was he thinking?

But he couldn’t pull his eyes away, watching it inch up further and further… and then she was pulling back, dropping back to her feet, turning to face him.

And Oliver’s heart seized, time just… stopping.

She was _beautiful_ \- dark glasses framing bright cerulean eyes and bright pink lips, lips that were slowly pulling back into a smile the longer he just stared at her, making his heart trip all over itself.

Oliver blinked again, his jaw falling open - because words were supposed to be coming out, he knew that; he knew how to talk, that there were words in his head, but he just couldn’t… _find them_.

She’d said something when she’d appeared - where had she come from, who was she, why was she here, why was she looking at him like that, what  had he done to deserve this force of _light_ to come out of nowhere…

What had she asked?

She cocked her head, amusement coloring her tone as she waved her hand at him. “Hello?”

“Uh… what? Yes. I mean… yes,” Oliver said.

_“Computer problems?”_

He shook his head, closing his eyes for a second before he tried again, his voice stronger. “Yes, computer problems. I’m… having them.”

The smile didn’t go away as she studied him, and time did the thing again, that thing where it paused, where everything slowed down, where there was nothing but this moment, this moment where it was just him and her and that was it. Oliver stared into her eyes, unable to look away like she was the center of gravity and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself in… he felt like he was simultaneously looking at an open book, every bit of her displayed for him to see, and into a fathomless depth, like that was what she was giving him, but there was so, so much more…

There was something in her smile too, something…

_Secret._

She suddenly jerked, like he’d hit a nerve he didn’t even know he’d been looking for. He furrowed his brow, moving to ask, _‘What’s wrong?’_ but then she nodded, pinching her lips to the side.

And then he couldn’t take his goddamn eyes off her goddamn lips again.

“You know he’s doing it wrong, right?”

That got his attention.

“Wait, what?” Oliver asked.

She nodded at his laptop - well, the pieces of his laptop visible - and his eyes followed hers. “He has no idea what he’s doing.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope,” she said brightly, that smile coming back. She didn’t give Oliver a chance to fully realize the implication of what she was saying, to fully understand that he was paying a kid to take his computer apart for shits and giggles, or to fully comprehend what her smile did to him because then she was stepping closer, right into his bubble.

His breath hitched at the sudden close proximity, at the faint scent of her perfume, the soft waft of her shampoo, the soft freckles spattered across her nose.

She patted his chest.

She _patted_ his _chest_ , her hand hovering right over his heart.

And she _left it there_.

Did she feel the way his heart suddenly started hammering so hard and fast he felt a little dizzy?

“Don’t worry though,” she said, her voice low, like they were conspiring. Oliver could only look at her, inching forward, wanting to be closer to her. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You do?” he managed and she bit her bottom lip…

Oliver’s chest clenched painfully at the sight, something else inside him stirring to life, something he hadn’t let himself feel in a very, very long time… it’d been so long since he’d felt his body tighten like this, with awareness of another human, in a way that made his skin grow itchy and tight, knowing only her touch would sate him.

He almost grabbed her, almost cupped her face and smashed his lips to hers, almost slid his arms around her, instinctively knowing he’d be pushing his hand up into her hair, dislodging her ponytail while the other slid under her shirt and jacket to feel the soft skin of her back…

It was her turn to catch her breath, like she could read what he was thinking… her pupils dilated, her lids growing heavy as she licked her lips…

And then Craig appeared, shattering the moment, and they both turned to look at him, neither moving to break the intimate little bubble.

“Oh,” Craig said, a small plastic piece in hand, stopping short when he saw the new addition. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied and Oliver looked back down at her as she smiled - she was gorgeous in a way that made his chest hurt, yes, but when she smiled, it was like the sun was shining down on her, pointing straight at her, telling him that she was it: she was the embodiment of _life_.

 _This_.

This is what he’d come there for, this is what his life had been missing.

 _This_.

Oliver wasn’t sure how he knew it, or what the hell made him think it in the first place, but everything before this moment, everything before moving to Starling City, before he’d closed the book on the last chapter of his life, before he’d stopped being Ollie ‘The Arrow’ Queen… it all _faded_ \- everything he spent every waking minute ignoring, that he spent every night reliving in nightmares and ugly memories, the blood, pain, anger, fear… it all faded, her presence alone turning what had been a sharp, festering wound into a dull, miniscule ache.

Oliver could only blink.

 _This_.

“You’re not doing this right,” she said to Craig, who blanched.

And then she was moving, taking her hand with her - the spot over his heart she’d been touching became cold, _empty_ , and he almost reached for her, almost grabbed her hand and tangled his fingers with hers just so he could feel her again, but he didn’t.

Oliver gripped the edge of the counter until his fingers turned white as she stepped back behind it.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be back here,” Craig said and she waved him off with a, “Piffle. I’ll only be a second.”

“But…”

“Craig, just pay attention,” she said, stepping up to the screen. She clicked a few buttons and something beeped. “See that?” she asked, pointing to the screen. “That is what you get when you…”

For the next ten minutes, Oliver watched her teach Craig how to fix the problem - _“It’s not fixed-fixed, but it’s fixed for the moment, so you can use it. I can fix it later, if you want… but it’ll take me a second, I’ll need your computer because I need to dig into the bowels of your hard drive… I won’t steal it though, I’m not that guy, I’m totally trustworthy, I swear… and I realize that people who aren’t trustworthy usually say those things, but I am…”_ He watched her put his laptop back together, watched her give him that smile again, watched her step back out, introducing herself - _“I’m Megan…”_

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she ripped a piece of paper from Craig’s notebook and scrawled her name and phone number across it before slipping it into his hand…

And for a split second, when her fingers were touching his, squeezing lightly as she smiled up at him…

Oliver finally knew what peace felt like for the first time in his life.

*

“Your last report was lackluster.”

Felicity Smoak rolled her eyes, unlocking her front door, the bag of parts she’d bought at Tech Hut banging against the doorjamb. The deadbolt gave with a loud click. With her coffee balanced in the crook of her arm, the bag dangling from her fingers, the phone in her other hand, Felicity ducked down to twist the knob, quickly pushing the door open with her foot before it latched shut again.

“Well, see, if there was something to report, I’d be reporting it, Amanda,” she replied, stepping in quickly, the heavy door falling shut behind her.

The smell of burnt muffins still lingered in the air, and she wrinkled her nose in equal parts disgust and dismay.

One of these days, she was going to bake something that didn’t make her neighbors want to call the fire department.

“I just want to make sure you’re being as thorough as possible, Ms. Smoak, that’s all,” Amanda Waller said, the vague edge of displeasure coloring her words. “I don’t need to remind you it’s already been three weeks.”

“I can’t make something happen where nothing’s happening,” Felicity said, lodging the phone between her shoulder and ear, setting her coffee and new computer parts on the edge of the dining room table, the rest of the space taken by four other computers in various states of disarray.

“Indeed,” Amanda replied, sounding entirely displeased. “Well, keep me apprised.”

“Always do,” Felicity said, forcing a false note of cheerfulness into her voice, knowing her boss would see right through it.

“Right,” Amanda said before hanging up.

Felicity let her phone drop, her hand moving to catch it as she smacked her lips with a mocking, _“Right.”_

She loved her job, she really did. She didn’t love the people who came with the job, but she loved her job.

She _did_.

“I love my job, I love my job, I love my job,” Felicity said under her breath, shrugging out of her jacket. She tossed it across the arm of the couch and reached over the back of it, grabbing the remote control. She pressed the ‘OPEN’ button and toed her shoes off as the large wooden panels lining the predominant wall in her apartment slowly pulled back, revealing six television screens.

She hit the power button, all six responding, blinking to life.

Felicity dropped the remote, turning back to grab her coffee, her eyes landing on the burnt tray of muffins still sitting in the kitchen in the process.

She groaned pitifully.

“How can I follow the instructions and this _still_ happens?” She stepped up, tapping the tray with her nail before glancing up at her ceiling. “Hear that, baking gods? Are you there? Did you skip me when you were bestowing baking prowess upon us feeble humans? I _want_ to bake, doesn’t that count for _something_?”

Felicity scratched at the charred top of one of the muffins and it crumbled under her fingertip, revealing a still gooey center.

“How does it burn on the outside and nothing on the inside? How did you _do_ that?” she asked the offending pastry. It just frowned up at her. “A better question is how does _he_ do that?”

The thought of that specific _he_ made a tiny army of butterflies jump to life in her stomach. They all instantly fluttered their way up her chest where her heart took more than a few happy skips.

He _could_ bake… and he did it often.

Running into him had not been part of the plan… but he’d just _been_ there. What was she supposed to do, leave him to poor Craig who had tried all the rudimentary things he knew to fix Oliver’s laptop? Honestly, what was Oliver doing going there anyway? Craig was the guy you called who told you to turn your computer off and on and again, not to completely take it apart and rearrange it to fix the problem.

Which she’d offered to do.

By giving him her phone number.

By inviting him to call her, to her into his life, to be _involved…_

Like a complete and total _idiot_.

“Frak,” she whispered to the muffin, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Such frak, so much frak.”

Amanda might literally kill her if she found out.

No _might_.

She would. She would definitely kill her.

No, no, this was a good thing. Because it meant if he did call her, then she’d get her hands on his computer.

So… it _was_ part of the plan. Right, it was actually genius, really, because it was part of the plan.

_It was._

“It’s nothing,” Felicity said out loud to the muffin. The muffin didn’t look convinced. “It’s nothing, you don’t need to look at me like that. I felt bad for him. You try watching him suffer through a malfunctioning computer and then taking it to someone who probably only made it worse. You try that, muffin, and then we’ll talk.”

The muffin just stared at her.

“Burnt little jerk,” she murmured, pushing the tray away.

Felicity picked up her coffee and turned back to the television screens, patting one of the computers on the table as she made her way into the living room. She sat down, settling in, tucking her feet underneath her and picked up the remote.

Her eyes dancing over each screen, taking in each room of his apartment… he’d left his towel on the sink again, his boxers on the floor of the bathroom… his work clothes from the day before were in a crumpled pile by the bed and he _still_ hadn’t touched the giant pile of mail.

And there was a bowl of muffins, the ones he’d baked the night before, sitting on the counter in his kitchen.

A ghost of a smile skated over her lips - they were _perfect_.

The man could _bake_ … and cook, and clean, and…

Of course he could. A guy who could shoot an arrow through the someone’s heart from hundreds of feet away with pinpoint accuracy would be able to do basically everything else with the same exactitude; she’d seen the surveillance of him, seen how he was when he had his bow in hand, read the reports of his kills, how he’d done them… how he’d been a shadow, nobody ever really seeing his face, nobody ever really knowing _who_ he was, just that he was an assassin, a deadly one, one who supposedly carried out hits for the Russian mob…     

That same level of concentration was all over his face when he was in the kitchen.

It was mesmerizing.

He was mesmerizing.

Felicity blew out a short breath between her lips, shaking her head - _you are taking ridiculous to the next level, Smoak_ \- just as front door in the right middle screen opened.

Oliver Queen walked into his apartment, kicking the door shut with his foot, his laptop tucked under his arm.

The piece of paper with her phone number was still right there, right under his palm, and Felicity would be lying to herself if she didn’t at least admit that her stomach swooped just a little bit at the sight.

Because of the _plan_ , that’s all.

She didn’t _like_ like him, because that would be _stupid_.

No, she _liked_ him, in the way the spies sometimes liked their subjects. He was interesting. Intriguing… unique, kind, sweet, handsome, endearing, funny, dorky… And it really helped that he spent two hours every single morning exercising until he was covered in a nice layer of sweat, his muscles rippling from his punishing regimen, highlighting his scars and tattoos. Yes, that was most of it. The man took the term ‘gorgeous’ and multiplied it by about seven hundred by just _existing_ \- _that_ was why she liked him.

Yep.

“Come on, Kapitan,” she whispered, taking a sip of her coffee - he hadn’t gone by that title in over ten years, but when she’d woken from her first dream about him two weeks ago, she’d forced herself to start calling him that when she watched him. Because _distance_ … it was _working_. It _was_. “How about we finally make those Bratva strings dance today…”

Oliver set his laptop down and Felicity’s fingers tightened around the cup when he kept the piece of paper. He slipped his jacket off, turning his back to the camera in his living room, the one she’d painstakingly installed a month ago.

He draped the leather on the back of a chair, glancing down… pausing…

Oh god, _that_ couldn’t be good - was he going to throw it away? A slice of mortification slid through her - she’d come on too strong, she’d misread every single sign, she’d thrown herself at him, she’d overstepped her boundaries, she’d taken a risk that was now going to blow up in her face, he wasn’t interested, he was going to _throw it away_ …

But he didn’t.

He just looked at it.

“Turn around,” she whispered, staring at his back, willing him to do just that… “Turn around, Oliver.”

And then he did, and the tiny smile on his face as he stared at her name and phone number made her heart leap right into her throat.

He ran his thumb over her name, whispering it…

… and suddenly she was back in the computer store, looking up at him, unable to stop the shiver when he repeated her name, _“Megan… it’s nice to meet you. I’m Oliver Queen.”_

God, what would it sound like if he said her real name?

_Fe-li-ci-ty…_

Seeing him on her screens and actually being _near_ him were two very, very different things. He was overwhelming on television, but in person… he’d towered over her, so tall, but it wasn’t in an intimidating way… it actually made her feel small, cherished… almost _feminine_. His eyes were a light blue that grew darker when he was focused - as he’d been focused on her - and god, if she’d thought he was gorgeous onscreen…

Felicity’s palm tingled where she’d touched him, when they’d been standing so close there wasn’t a lick of space remaining between them…

His heart had been racing, she’d felt it pounding away… it’d matched hers, when her heart had been shoving blood through her system so hard it’d made her limbs feel weak, like they were going to float away if she wasn’t careful… if she didn’t stop touching him, or if she let herself fall into his eyes even further…

Had he seen her hands shaking when she’d started talking to Craig?

Had he heard the tremble in her voice when she felt his eyes on her?

Had he seen the way she flushed, the quick breaths, how she’d had to swallow constantly because her mouth was so dry…

Felicity’s face crumpled.

“This isn’t good,” she whispered… but she didn’t take her eyes off him where he stood with her phone number, his hand sliding into his pants pocket…

She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

She didn’t want to.

_Screwed._

She was so screwed.

Her phone rang, shattering the silence.

Felicity’s eyes abruptly focused on the screens and they widened when she saw him holding _his_ phone to his ear, like he was…

“Oh!” she said, nearly dropping her coffee in her haste to get up.

She leapt for her phone where it sat on the dining table, already seeing his number on her screen - _he was calling her_ \- and she answered in the next breath, bringing it up to her ear with a breathy, “Hello?”

“Hi, uh… Megan? Hi, it’s… it’s Oliver.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was absolutely inspired by Jake and Olivia from Scandal.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/129785177674/prompt-au-oliver-takes-his-computer-to-the-shop)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


	15. Drunk Coworker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, one-shot. Oliver walks a drunk Felicity home. She keeps insisting she's not drunk though, she's intoxicated by him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous: “I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.” or “You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” Man, I want any and all of these on the list. Really enjoy your writing!

“I’m not _drunk_ ,” Felicity said, her foot catching on a crack in the sidewalk. It was enough for her entire leg gave out from under her. She let out a surprised, “Oh!” just as the arm wrapped around his neck suddenly tightened with surprising strength, her nails digging into his shoulder as she almost went down.

Oliver gripped her against him tighter, wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her upright, his hand sliding up under her shirt on accident. She didn’t even notice as she grappled to find her feet again but he did. Oh… he definitely noticed. Because her skin was _soft_ , and _warm,_ and so… _there_. 

His finger grazed her bra, his hand cupping her ribs, and god, she felt good. He instinctively turned into her, his hand moving of its own accord to get closer…

But then he gritted his teeth because he was not seriously feeling up his co-worker in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night as he walked her to her apartment, when she was way too drunk to know any different. Because he was not an asshole.

Alright, he was kind of an asshole… because he really wanted to.

Add this to his list of reasons why he was never going to get a date with Felicity Smoak.

“Felicity,” he murmured - in censure, not because he wanted to ask her if it was okay and if his hand could live in her shirt. He tried to pull his hand out, tried to hold her up without actually holding her up so he could get his hand _out_ before he did something _really_  stupid, but her foot caught on _another_  crack in the sidewalk and she almost went down _again_.

“Oh, there’s another one,” she said, her voice carrying over the street, her hand flying to cover his through her shirt as he held her up. Oliver felt a ridiculous niggle of panic telling him she was going to push it out and tell him to stop being a pervert… but she held it there.

In fact, she took a deep breath and _pushed it up further_ so he was definitely touching her bra, feeling her every breath, feeling _everything_  as she finally found her feet again.

Oliver’s chest constricted.

“That’s better,” Felicity said with flourish, looking up at him with a dopey smile “See, not drunk. Clumsy, perhaps. Someone the cracks hate, perhaps, because they keep tripping me. So rude of them…”

A ghost of a smile found his lips before it disappeared - she was absolutely adorable in general, but when she was drunk, everything was compounded… including the sparkle in her eye, how she kept biting her lower lip, making it swollen and ridiculously… _there_  - 

His lips tingled with a sudden awareness, that desire he’d been hiding for months now, the desire to know what those lips would feel like against his…

But she’d had too much to drink.

And he wasn’t going to be that guy with her. He’d rather never have her than be _that guy_ with her.

He tried to pull his hand out again but she held it there and he closed his eyes. “Felicity… what are you doing?”

“I’m… standing in the middle of the street with a really cute guy,” she said matter-of-factly, and his stomach swooped. “With Oliver Queen.” She sighed, swaying towards him, that smile not going away. “Oliver Queen has his hand up my shirt.”  


His chest constricted again, sending a vat of panic rushing through him as she hummed under her breath. He tried to move it again but she kept it there and he whispered her name, his voice cracking.

“I love when you say my name,” she whispered. His eyes flew open in surprise. “I’ve liked you for so long, Oliver.” 

Oliver could only stare at her, his mouth going dry, his heart taking off. She leaned into him… and reached up to grip the lapel of his jacket.

He didn’t move his hand, too stunned to move.

“Ever since you came into my office and introduced yourself…  _‘Hi, I’m Oliver Queen…’_ You were so grumpy, you were such a grumpy cat guy, and you always stayed in your cubicle, never talking to anyone… but then sometimes… when I say hi, you _smile_  and you say, _‘Good morning, Felicity.’_ ”

Felicity grinned, letting out a tiny little noise of what sounded like delight, and he could only stand there, frozen… because she was right. 

He only smiled for her. 

It’d been so long since he’d had a reason to smile, so many years… but with her it was so _effortless_. 

_And she liked it._

Felicity sighed, looking wistful. “But I can never have you. Because you’re Oliver Queen, and I’m Felicity Smoak, and you are, like… seventy billion leagues away from me.” She giggled. “Which is why the fact that your hand is up my shirt right now…” 

She reached up, touching his cheek… and he leaned into it before he could stop himself. 

“I’m not _drunk_ , Oliver, I’m just intoxicated by _you_. By Oliver Queen. I really like you. I like your dumb ties and your hair and your face and that you only drink black coffee and that you have a scuff in your shoe…”

Oliver blinked, trying to remember how to breathe, his heart making it really damned difficult because it was racing way too fast…

Felicity hummed under her breath, smiling, swaying towards him. Her forehead grazed his chin and he leaned into her, taking a deep breath… before she started moving again, back to her apartment. He could only follow, his brain trying to find something to say… but say what? She was… would she even remember this?

They made their way to her door, up the steps… where it took her a few minutes to find her keys. When the door was finally unlocked, she turned back to him, that smile on her beautiful lips…

“Why don’t you ask him out then?” he asked, his voice so low he wondered if she even heard him because… he was too chickenshit to do anything else.  


She heard him.

“He’d say no,” Felicity said, nodding, barely grasping that they were talking about him like he wasn’t even there. “Because he’s… he’s had a hard past, I can see it in his face, I don’t think he’d… say yes.”  


His breath caught and he said, “He’d say yes,” before he realized what he was doing. She looked up at him, and he nodded. “He’d say yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/130035889334/im-not-drunk-im-just-intoxicated-by-you-or)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


	16. Wanna Be Yours, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU. Felicity's car breaks down in a major rainstorm, sending her walking to the closest house she can find. It just so happens to belong to Oliver Queen, and he's having a 'Skivvies Only' party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous: “You can stay but your clothes must go.” Olicity College AU :)

**“You can stay, but your clothes must go.”**   


“Excuse me?” Felicity asked, her jaw dropping. “You’re… are you asking me to take off my clothes in exchange for getting shelter from the actual tsunami falling from the sky right now?”  


“It’s not me, sweetheart.” The guy on the other end of the door smiled, \waving at himself and the very tiny, _tiny_  Speedo he was wearing. “Rules are rules.”

Felicity could only stare at him, at the stupid meathead idiot telling her the only way he was letting her into the house - the only house she’d managed to come upon in over a mile in this ridiculous downpour - was by taking her clothes off. Because of a stupid party. She’d known there was a party when she’d come up, because there were cars everywhere, parked in the dirt road and in the field surrounding the giant farmhouse…

She just hadn’t known it was a  _naked_  party.

Alright, the people teeming behind him weren’t actually naked, but a ‘Skivvies-Only’ party, as the banner boasted, was not any damn better.

She was so not in the mood for this. 

She’d been driving back to her dorm from the intern meeting - one that went really badly - when they’d shut down the highway because of an accident. It’d been fine until she discovered all the side roads they were directing everyone to were actually roads on scary, lightless street - because she was in the middle of _nowhere_ \- which would have ultimately been fine except her car thought it was the perfect time to _die_ … 

Which also would have been fine save for the fact that when she’d started walking, the sky jumped right onto the Bad Day Bandwagon and started vomiting water everywhere.

_She was so not in the mood._

But she was also freezing, and tired, and… well, her night had been crappy enough that if she had enough alcohol in her body, she could do this. She was tired enough, angry enough, and cold enough to huff in aggravation at the stupid meathead and his stupid meathead smile before taking the last few steps up to the door and grabbing the red cup he was holding, slamming the contents. 

The liquor burned its way down her gullet and she made a face, shoving the cup back at him - it tasted and felt like pure vodka.

“Whoa,” the guy said, grinning. “Now that’s what I like to see!”  


“Ugh,” Felicity replied, stepping into the house. 

It was blissfully warm inside from the massive amount of bodies filling the space. She left little pools of water everywhere as the meathead closed the door behind her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  


“How about we get you a towel first, huh?” he asked and she managed a sarcastic, “That’d be super,” as he lifted his arm and shouted over her head, “Yo, Oliver, we gotta use your room, man!”  


Felicity’s heart _stopped._

_No._

She closed her eyes for a second, because the universe was not _that_  cruel to her.

Right? 

_Right?_

It was.

Because Oliver Queen looked up from across the room and right at her. Oliver Queen who looked _really amazing_  wearing nothing but a pair of skintight black boxer briefs and the stubble he’d started wearing at some point over the last summer was looking right at her and she watched the smile on his face slip away as he took her in.

She almost turned right back around and went back outside. 

Because that was so much more preferable to  _this_.

Before she could tell the meathead she was just joking, she liked walking in the rain and she’d rather keep all her clothes on until the end of time, Oliver abruptly handed his drink to the girl he’d been talking to and made his way over.

“Oh man, does he know you?” the meathead asked. “That’s cool!”  


“Yeah,” Felicity said half-heartedly. “So cool.”  


So _not_  cool.

She’d been assigned to do a project with him last year. It had not ended well. It’d actually ended with them arguing most nights as they got ready for their presentation and having a mini _tiff_ \- alright, the tiff was not so mini - in front of 500 people because they just couldn’t _agree_  on anything. They’d ending up getting an A and a comment about how partner chemistry can make any presentation that much better.

She’d immediately asked the professor to never pair her with him again.

It also really, really didn’t help that she was wildly and ridiculously attracted to him. Because she had eyes. Not because she actually _liked_ him. 

“Is it cool if we crash your room?” the meathead asked, his arm slipping across her shoulder again as Oliver reached them. She watched his eyes zero in on his friend’s arm, looking entire displeased - how _awesome,_  he was already pissed she was there. Like it was her fault the heavens decided to open up right then and send her careening into his stupid naked party.  


“No, I got it,” Oliver said, and Felicity started.  


How about _no_?

“How about _I’ve_ got it,” she said before pointing up the stairs. “I’ll go up to your room and get a towel myself, although the real question is why am I not just going to a bathroom to dry off? I’m pretty sure the bathroom has towels.”  


“Everything’s locked, Felicity,” Oliver said, his hand landing on her shoulder, pushing the meathead’s arm off her. Her heart jumped, climbing up her throat for a quick second at the warmth in his touch - she was just cold. He tugged her away from his friend, giving him a little nod, before he pushed her towards the stairs, doing a very good job of avoiding touching her at all. “Come on.”  


Like touching her was absolutely deplorable, his hand fell away when they reached the base of the stairs.

Felicity turned to him abruptly.

“This isn’t necessary, actually,” she said, forcing a fake smile to her lips. She nodded and Oliver frowned down at her - it only fueled the _‘yes, let’s get the hell away’_ running rampant through her. “I can walk. I walked here, I’m pretty sure there are other places I can go, places where I don’t have to _strip_  to stay.” She patted his naked arm awkwardly - dear god, had he always had that much muscle? Yes, yes he had… not that she’d noticed, not even a little, especially when he was being a total dick to her - and turned towards the front door. “Thanks for the offer, Oliver.”

He grabbed her arm before she could get very far and it was _definitely_  only because she was cold that his touch _burned_ her _._

“Felicity, stop,” he said, pulling her back. “They said this storm was going to be huge, which is why we’re out here in the first place. You’re not going back out there.”  


“I got here just fine,” she retorted, raising her voice to be heard over the music and the chatter surrounding them. 

“What? Are you…” Oliver made a face, an exasperated noise falling from his throat. “No. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”  


“Oliver, I’m not…”  


“Felicity,” he said sharply. “ _No_. It’s freezing out there, the storm is going to get worse, and it’s safe in here.” He paused, taking a deep breath, staring at her. “I would feel better if you stayed here, okay? At least until the storm passes. Please.”

 _Please_.

Felicity stared at him, a shiver slipping down her spine. 

Because she was cold, not because of the weird way Oliver was looking at her, like he’d…

She shook her head - _nope_ \- and then nodded. Relief skated over his face and he squeezed her elbow - had he been holding her arm the entire time? _Yes._ Her heart jumped up her throat again, nearly choking her. 

He urged her to go before him and she took a step, clearing her throat. 

“It’s nice to know you’ve finally learned how to use the word ‘please.’”

He huffed in annoyance, and she knew he was rolling his eyes.

His hand found the small of her back, guiding her up the stairs. 

She shivered.

Because she was cold.

People were everywhere, and most of them nodded and greeted Oliver, all of them eyeing her like she was a fish out of water… which, she was. She was the only one wearing any clothes, wet as they were. Her shoes squished as they made their way down the hall, passing more people - oh look, some of them had forgone _any_  skivvies, how nice - before reaching Oliver’s room. 

He pulled a key out - she really didn’t want to know from where - and unlocked the door, following her in.

She was in Oliver’s room. He had a room and she was in it and it was… so not what she would have expected. It was _warm_ , and clean, a few clothes dropped here and there, his desk covered in a few books, his laptop open, the bed unmade… 

The evidence that he’d been in that bed right there, obviously sleeping _alone_ judging by the sheet patterns, was… 

Interesting.

That was all.

Because Oliver Queen was interesting.

Nothing more.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Oliver,” she said, turning to face him as he shut the door behind them. “I can dry off and get undressed - _dressed_ , I mean, not… undressed, I’m not getting naked, because…” She let out a heavy breath, telling her mouth to _please just stop._  “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”  


“Felicity, you don’t have to go back down there,” he replied. “Kevin’s just a jackass, you don’t have to, and you especially don’t have to… get undressed.” Her heart seized. “You can stay up here.”  


Her heart seized _even more._

“Up… here?” she asked, pointing. “In here, in your room, like… no, that’s not necessary. I’m not staying up here, that’s not… no.”  


A little smile tugged at his lips, but then it was gone the next second. “What’s wrong with my room?”

“Nothing, besides it being _your_  room, and that’s not… no,” she said, shaking her head. 

He raised his eyebrows, cocking his head, and damn it if a tiny herd of butterflies didn’t just start ramming themselves against the walls of her stomach. She was in Oliver Queen’s room, about to get undressed while he was very much so… quite undressed… 

_Nope._

She looked around quickly, her eyes finding the first door they could. “Bathroom?”  


She started walking for it, but Oliver caught her hand, tugging her to a stop. 

Her stomach dropped as his fingers tangled with hers, pulling her back to him, his arm coming around her shoulders - oh, that felt very different from the meathead’s touch, very different… in a way that made her not like him. Right. Yes. Because she didn’t like Oliver, she didn’t. She never had. He was just really cute… and the same guy who’d given her the worst working partner experience in her life. 

Right.

“Bathroom,” he said, a smile in his voice as he turned her to a door on the other side.  


His hand was still in hers. Or was hers in his? 

_What?_

“Right, great,” she breathed, nodding, stepping away - more, _tripping_  away, or _skipping_  away, judging by the way she nearly jumped away from him. “Thanks. I’ll lock the door behind me when I come back down.”

“No,” Oliver said and she looked back at him, startled. “Only the key locks the door, so I’ll wait.”  


“Oh… kay, then. I’ll be a second.”

“Take your time,” he said. 

The room was dark, save for a soft light on his nightstand and the light coming through the crack under the door… there was _light_ , but for some reason, it suddenly felt really… _really_  intimate - she was in Oliver’s room, and he was right there, and she was, and… and Felicity almost swallowed her tongue. 

“I’ll be right out here,” he said.  


Felicity nodded… and darted for the bathroom.

What was _wrong_ with her? This was _Oliver_. Why was she acting like a complete and total spaz all of a sudden? She wasn’t a spaz, she didn’t _spaz._ Not around _him_.

Felicity found a towel hanging on the rack and quickly peeled her wet clothes off, her mind trying to spin past the fact that Oliver was sitting out in his bedroom, waiting for her to come out, because for some reason she’d told him she wasn’t comfortable staying in his room, where she didn’t have to be half-naked around a bunch of strangers on a really crappy night…

Including him.

_Oh god, Oliver was going to see her in her underwear._

Her hands started shaking a little and she rolled her eyes - she was an _adult_ , she could do this. She pulled her shirt off and then her pants. She dried off - at least her bra was black, no see-through there - wringing out her hair until it was at least… 

Felicity looked in the mirror and made a little, “Eep!” noise. Her makeup was _everywhere_ , he hair was frizzing out and her skin was still a blotchy red from the storm. It made the fact that she was wearing matching panties and bra - thank the Google gods for that bit - seem entirely unimpressive and almost garish.

Oh _god_ , Oliver had seen her like this?

No. That was a good thing. Because… it deterred. Not that there was anything to actually deter _from_ , but… determent.

“Vodka,” she said, nodding. “Need that, needs lots of that, so much.”  


She wiped her eyes until they were semi-presentable and her hair… was hopeless. Running her fingers through it as much as she could, Felicity folded her clothes into a nice wet pile and left them sitting on the counter, along with the towel.

It was pretty amazing, actually, how very un-cold she suddenly was.

Without looking in the mirror again, Felicity opened the door, quickly turning the light off behind her. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of light and looked around, finding Oliver sitting on his bed, staring at something in his hands.

His head flew up the instant she stepped out and whatever he was holding disappeared into his fist. She furrowed her brow, wondering what exactly he was holding that he had to hide from her… but she suddenly didn’t give two craps about whatever it was because when he saw her… 

The room was too dark for her to see him properly, that had to be it, because she swore his eyes narrowed, growing darker - could they even _do_ that? - as his jaw dropped.

Oliver blinked, looking stunned - yeah, she’d be stunned too if he came crawling out of her bathroom looking like a drowned rat.

His eyes found hers again and Felicity’s breath hitched at the look on his face, her lungs forgetting their function.

She licked her lips, and his eyes dropped down to her mouth.

And then the lights went out.

Felicity jumped, shrieking, hearing Oliver’s quick steps, already up and moving towards her as the party downstairs erupted in cheers. She took a step towards the door - what she _thought_  was the door - and ran into a wall. A wall she didn’t remember being there.

“Uh…” she said and then she felt him behind her. 

“Felicity,” he said softly - probably to help guide her gently towards him - but she was already spinning towards him, ready to take the hand she was sure was out there somewhere because the dark was actually freaking her out a little… 

He was a lot closer than she thought.  


She spun right into him and his arms instantly came up to steady her, surrounding her, every inch of her pressed to every inch of him, and… Felicity gasped, her hands holding onto the first things they found - his shoulder and his arm - as he stumbled back a step, taking her with him. 

“Sorry,” she gasped, taking a quick breath and oh wow, his chest was _right there_  and it felt really good. And _big._  “I didn’t see - I mean, of course I didn’t _see_  you, it’s dark, because the lights went out. Obviously. I didn’t mean to run into you, to nearly knock you down and… sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Oliver replied softly.

Felicity told herself to remove her hands, to take a step back, but he was… there, and she was also there, and… 

Despite herself, Felicity clutched him a little tighter, leaning into him. He didn’t do anything for a split second, a split second that was long enough for her to realize what she was doing… but then his hands _moved_ , one falling down her naked back, grazing the top of her ass while the other slid over the back of her shoulders, slipping up to the back of her neck…

Felicity’s eyes fluttered shut, pushing herself closer… and she pushed herself up on her toes, her forehead brushing against his chin…

“Oliver,” she whispered, turning her face up to his…  


She felt the tremulous breath he took, felt his arms tightening, his fingers gripping her tightly.

His body was hard, so hard against hers, and warm, and he felt and smelled so good. How many times had she dreamed about this, thought about this, wondered…

“Felicity…”  


The lights came back on, and the second the light registered in conjunction with the the party groaning their disappointment downstairs, she jumped back, just as quickly as he did.

“Vodka,” she blurted.  


“What?”   


“Vodka… is needed,” she said, nodding, moving to the door. “I’m gonna go get some, because… because…”  


She had nothing.

Felicity stared at him and he stared at her… and before she said something else, or _did_  something else, she opened the door and darted into the party, really not caring that she was in her underwear with a bunch of strangers, or that her car was abandoned somewhere or that she was probably stuck there for a while until the storm passed.

If she had to walk around with Oliver anywhere near her, the only thing that mattered was alcohol, copious amounts of alcohol.

When Felicity reached the top of the stairs, she risked a glance back, her eyes meeting his.

He took a step towards her and she gripped the banister.

“Oh boy,” she whispered before she took off down the stairs.  


It was going to be a long, long night.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/130047199294/you-can-stay-but-your-clothes-must-go-olicity)
> 
> I am working on a sequel to this AU!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


	17. Wanna Be Yours, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU. Felicity's car breaks down in a major rainstorm, sending her walking to the closest house she can find. It just so happens to belong to Oliver Queen, and he's having a 'Skivvies Only' party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so behind on responding to the amazing comments, I'll catch up soon! Thank you SO MUCH for the amazing response to this little world I've accidentally created, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it so far!

Oliver tried to keep an eye on her but every damn time he got close enough to make sure she was okay, that nobody was bothering her - he knew she could take care of herself, that she didn’t _need_ him watching out for her, but he also knew Felicity Smoak, and she wasn’t having a good night. A _t all_ \- she slipped away, like she could _feel_ his eyes on her.  


The storm wasn’t showing any signs of releasing its stranglehold - rain crashed against the walls, pattering the windows; lightning lit up the sky in sudden bursts, thunder following so quick behind he thought the walls were going to tumble down. Everyone loved it, especially when the lights continued to flicker on and off every few minutes, sending a chorus of shouts and screams throughout the entire house. After the third time - especially when he thought he’d caught a glimpse of _her_ \- Oliver’d had enough. He shut them down and sent a bucket of candles around until each room was lit in soft candlelight.

When he found her again she was in the kitchen, standing among the array of alcohols and mixers on the island, finishing off one of the vodka bottles. She didn’t see him yet, people flowing in and out between the rooms.

Oliver paused at the door, staying behind the doorjamb, just watching her.

Felicity Smoak.

Was in his house.

Felicity Smoak was in his house and she was wearing nothing but a black-and-cream lacy demi-cup bra and a pair of panties that made his mouth go dry every single time he saw her.

God, she was beautiful.

He’d honestly thought he’d never get the chance or the honor to see her like this, and yet… there she was, rumpled from the rain, her makeup smudged - she didn’t look like she’d just got caught in a storm; no, she looked like she’d just woken up after a night of doing things that definitely did not include sleep.

What would it be like to wake up next to her? To see her face relaxed with sleep, a pillow crease along her cheek, her hair tousled, her body warm, her eyes scrunching in the cutest frown as he woke her up to pull her closer… 

Oliver wasn’t one for cuddling, especially in the mornings, he was more interested in getting the hell out, but with her… with her he wanted to bury his face in her neck, make her squeal as he rubbed his beard along the sensitive column. Would she smell like a mixture of whatever made her Felicity and her perfume? Would she hold a trace of his cologne, a trace of him mixed in? Or would she be all flowery shampoo, the same kind he’d get used to using when he showered at her place…

For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t like he’d thought about it or anything.  


But to wake up knowing she looked like _that_ because of _him_ , because of the way he’d touched her, the way he’d made her squirm…

Oliver’s body tightened uncomfortably and for the hundredth time since she’d walked through the door, he wondered why he’d agreed to an underwear-only party. These things usually dissolved into a mess of undergarments and limbs every which way, which was normally a great thing because he liked having a good time, but now… 

Now Felicity was here, and he was stalking her through his party, his eyes constantly glued to her, barely responding to anyone who talked to him, managing a short nod and a grunt before he swept past them.

Oliver twisted his jaw, jamming his tongue between his teeth, watching her shake a few extra drops of vodka before dunking the neck of the bottle into her cup, using it to stir whatever concoction she’d just put together.  


He should be upset that she was there, that she was crashing… he should be upset that she’d only perfected her bitchy cap since the last time they’d talked, that her opinion of him hadn’t changed a bit… he should be upset that she’d stubbornly refused to stay up in his room and instead chose to walk around a house full of strangers, wearing next to nothing, her bare feet with bright green nail polish padding gently across the hardwood floor, her sexy calves leading up to full thighs, leading to an even fuller ass… 

His palms itched with the desire to touch her again, to feel the silky smoothness of her skin under his hands as he had upstairs. The second he’d heard the startled shriek when the lights had gone, it’d been pure instinct to go to her - he’d heard her turn around, her hands smacking a wall, and her unsure, “Uh,” before he’d been there… god, the way she’d grasped at him, her nails digging in, so warm and soft and perfect… He’d daydreamed about that moment so many times - way too many times - and when she’d whispered his name, that beautiful breathless, _“Oliver…”_ he’d nearly shoved her up against the wall right then.

But he hadn’t. Because he was ninety-nine percent sure that she would’ve kneed him in the nuts and then slapped him, because she wasn’t there for that.

The lights had gone out in a strange house filled to the brim with strangers, and she’d latched onto the one thing she knew… that was it.

He should be upset, because she still treated him like the scum on the bottom of her shoe, even after all this time… but he didn’t have any right to be.

The second he’d seen her standing next to Kevin earlier, staring at him with just as much shock as he felt, his stomach had _dropped_ , hitting the floor with a vicious thud that made his tongue taste chalky.

There were few things in his life he regretted, despite doing a lot of shit he _should_ regret… but the way he’d treated her the first night they got together to work on their project was definitely one of them. 

How many times had he wished he’d cancelled, or waited a few hours, or done _anything else_ besides going into the library with what at the time felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders and taking it all out on her? She’d made a joke about his being late, giving him a smile - the same smile she’d been giving him since they first noticed each other when the class started, the smile that made his lips curl, the one that made his heart skip a beat… and his response had been to bite her head right off.

It’d set the precedent for the rest of their interactions.

He was a dick, and he deserved to be treated the way she was treating him.

But god, it hadn’t stopped him from wishing he hadn’t, from wishing he’d done things just a little differently because she was a girl in his class, a girl he’d harbored a slight crush on, one that only grew by leaps and bounds the more time he spent with her, and what was the first thing he did? He shit on her, because he was an idiot who’d chosen to leave the rubber off one night, leading to a pregnancy scare that nearly turned his damn hair white.

A baby with Laurel Lance was the _last_ thing he needed, and unfortunately Felicity had been the first person he’d seen after hearing his ex-girlfriend had missed her period. It’d been a false alarm, thankfully, but the way he’d treated Felicity most certainly had not been.

Even thinking about it now made his stomach twist.

He’d tried to apologize later, but the words just wouldn’t come out right - he was _ashamed,_ of how he’d treated her, that he’d been so careless with Laurel… his chance to fix it came… and then it went, and instead of them slipping into an amiable relationship, he just pushed them further down a slippery slope that ended with them at each other’s throats until the end of their presentation.

When they’d gotten their grade back, he’d gone to talk to Professor Diggle about it and he’d told him that Felicity had requested they don’t work together again.

It should’ve been exactly what he wanted, but the thought of never being near again made it feel like someone was twirling his nerves into a knot.

But she was here… and he couldn’t stop himself from giving it way more meaning than it had.

Felicity set the bottle down and lifted her cup, taking a sniff, her nose scrunching in disgust before taking a sip. Her face twisted at the taste and he smiled - she was so fucking cute.

She swallowed her single sip, looking like she regretted dunking an entire bottle of vodka into her cup before her eyes scanned the kitchen, dancing over the numerous bodies filling the space.

And then she saw him.

Her eyes widened almost comically before she caught herself; she pulled her shoulders back and turned away, heading out the other kitchen entrance.  


By time he made it over to the other hallway, she’d already disappeared.

*

The next time he saw her was in one of the upstairs hallways. 

He’d had two shots of something bright pink and the world was feeling a little more manageable… or so he thought until a group of half-naked idiots ran behind him, shoving him towards her. She stepped back so fast and hard she nearly dropped her cup before shooting him an exasperated glare.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back just as quickly. “I wasn’t…”  


The sound of giggles and herding feet reached his ears just as Felicity looked and her hand shot out, grabbing his arm, yanking him back against her. 

He more felt than heard her gasp when the crowd pushed them together, her breasts pushing up against his chest, his dick pressing into her soft stomach… Oliver’s eyes slammed shut as they were jammed against the wall by the trundle of people running through the hall after the others - something fizzed, liquid splashed out of cups, a trail of bubbles following the group as they made their way into one of the rooms.

Oliver couldn’t be bothered with what the hell people were doing in his house because all he could focus on was _her_. 

He didn’t realize when he’d done it but he had his body caged around hers, protecting her from getting jostled and she had her face turned into his chest, her hand still wrapped around his bicep.

Felicity glanced up at him just as he looked down… and everything around them slowly faded away. They weren’t surrounded by a mass of people, he didn’t hear the shouts and loud conversations, or the people brushing behind him…

There was only _her_.

“You okay?” he asked, licking his lips.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth and his body responded like he’d been shocked - every nerve in his body roared to life as she took a shaky breath, her lids growing heavy, her tongue darting out to wet her lip.

It was the sexiest goddamn thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted to know more than anything what that lip tasted like.  


And then Felicity closed her eyes, shaking her head. 

“Uh… yes, I’m fine. Very fine. Very…” Her cup was half-empty and her breath smelled sweet… that was the only explanation for why she wasn’t pushing him away, why when she opened her eyes her fingers on his arm tightened, her eyes meeting his again. “Fine.”

Oliver stared at her, leaning in closer… she smelled like vodka and strawberries, a light trace of rain still on her skin, something else…

She was so close… and she wasn’t pushing him away.

 _She wasn’t pushing him away._

She was probably more than a little buzzed, and he definitely was, from whatever the hell had been in those shots -  damn deceiving pink froufrou drinks - and this…

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t let _her_ do this.

The realization hit her at the same time.

Her mask slipped back into place just as he stepped back, effectively breaking the spell.  


They stared at each other for a beat, the air still feeling thick and congealed… she was right there, so close…

He could _see_ the heat in her eyes and Oliver knew if he kissed her right now, she wouldn’t stop him.

It was a heady thought, one that made his body harden in anticipation, with the desire to pick her up and push her up against that wall, to finally taste her, feel her against him…

But there was no way in hell he was letting the first time he kissed Felicity Smoak be because of some strawberry vodka concoction and fucking pink froufrou drinks.

*

He wasn’t sure _why_ he kept looking for her - alright, that was a lie - but what a sane person would’ve done is step back and realize she clearly didn’t want anything to do with him. A sane person would understand that a girl avoiding you like the plague wasn’t a good sign, that it took a metric of alcohol for the ice in her eyes to finally melt, that she definitely hadn’t crashed his party by choice…

Instead he wandered around, eyes roving everywhere, waiting to see that familiar head of blonde hair…

They caught each other’s eyes every once in a while as the hours passed. He spotted her talking to people, even laughing once or twice, before she slipped away again.

*

The next time Oliver caught up with was when she was stepping into one of the back bathrooms, lips pressed tightly together, her cup still half-fill like she’d given up on it. He furrowed his brow as she closed the door, nodding his head absently to whatever the hell Tommy was saying, his eyes never once leaving where she’d disappeared.

Was she okay?

She didn’t look sick, but that didn’t mean…

Felicity was in there for a total of thirty seconds before she slipped out again, now cupless. 

She looked up like she could feel his gaze and when their eyes met, he raised his eyebrows, silently asking her if she was alright. She blinked - in astonishment or surprise, he wasn’t sure - before she nodded, giving him what almost looked like a heartfelt smile before the crowd swallowed her up again.

Tommy abruptly snatched his cup out of his hand and Oliver’s eyes snapped back to him as his best friend took a heavy swig of…

“Dude, is this water?” Tommy asked, making a face. He sniffed it and gave Oliver a look of affronted incredulity and concern. “You feeling okay, buddy?”

“I’m fine,” Oliver said dismissively, taking his cup back before heading to the kitchen.

*

It was well past four in the morning when Oliver made his way through the main living room, his eyes scanning the crowded makeshift dance floor someone had created at some point earlier in the night. Most people were well-past drunk and quite a few of them had already had sex at some point, which meant the party was dissolving into a giant ‘no fucks given’ zone. Usually he was right in the middle, completely blitzed, but for the first time in a very long time, Oliver Queen was sober and realizing much earlier than noon the next day what a ridiculous mess these kinds of parties were.  


His eyes slid over the dancing bodies - he wasn’t looking for _her_ , no, he was just making sure everyone was doing alright. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sober enough to do such a thing.

Lightning flashed from the corner of his eye, and he glanced over…

She was standing at the picture window, arms crossed where she leaned against the wall, watching the sky light up at jarring intervals, the windowpanes slathered with pelting rain.

She was a stark contrast to the rest of the room, which was filled to the brim with gyrating bodies. Oliver kept his eyes on her as the slow-paced song overhead gave way to something softer, something that suited the candlelight and intimacy of half-naked people dancing a hell of a lot better.

The mood in the entire room shifted and she stiffened like she could feel it.

Oliver was ready to walk over and ask her if she wanted to escape to his room for the last few hours when he saw Kevin slipping up behind her. Kevin - whose Speedo was slipping dangerously in body-floss territory - looped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side, yanking her out of her thoughts. 

Oliver’s brow furrowed, something dark and heavy filling his chest. He was already moving to interfere before he stopped himself, gritting his teeth. He definitely didn’t _like_ it, didn’t like that Kevin was so _familiar_ with her, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it because she wasn’t _his_ to defend. She didn’t _need_ a defender, and if she didn’t like Kevin, she was more than able to take care of herself…

He took a deep breath… but he couldn’t take his eyes off them.

Those _were_ his thoughts until Oliver saw Felicity shaking her head, giving Kevin as polite a smile as she could, turning back to the window…

That should have been the end of it, but instead the fuckhead wrapped his arm around Felicity’s very naked waist and lifted her off her feet, spinning them both into the slow-dancing fray.

“Kevin!” Oliver snapped, making the people around him jump, but he didn’t see them.  


He was there in the blink of an eye.  


He knew the guy didn’t mean any harm, that he was just a giant, meathead idiot who got a little too handsy when he was drunk, but he was so much bigger than Felicity and Oliver wasn’t willing to wait to see how she handled it.

Oliver just acted, pushing his way through the throng, his eyes never leaving them. He saw Felicity patiently pushing Kevin away again, and he was giving her the most pathetic and ridiculous pout act Oliver had ever seen… but the idiot nodded, relenting, and Felicity gave him another smile, this one a little more amused, before someone else wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her even further into the dancing mob.

“Hey!” Felicity snapped, moving to elbow the guy who’d innocently grabbed her - or not so innocently, considering where his hand was starting to migrate - but Oliver was already there, removing his arm with more than a little force. 

Felicity’s startled eyes flew to his as the guy kept on dancing like nothing had happened. 

She blinked up at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said with a little smile.

He touched her elbow, urging her to move off the dance floor but the bodies were already moving in around them, closing them in. He rolled his eyes, grabbing her hand - their fingers tangled together naturally, like they were meant to, like that was their purpose, and his heart skipped a beat when she gripped him tightly - and pulled her behind him but they were even more blocked in by a wall of dancing, drunk people. 

The moving mass pushed her against him, making it hard for his lungs to remember how to work; the sudden over-awareness of his entire backside sent him reeling…

Especially when she wrapped her arm around his waist, her foot brushing against his.  


Oliver closed his eyes, his hand coming up to graze her arm, almost like he was reminding her what she was doing. 

She didn’t move it. 

He slowly wrapped his hand around her, holding it in place as he spun in her embrace, their bodies jostling in time with the dancing around them. 

Felicity was flush against him, but this time she was the one holding on as she looked up at him…

Oliver didn’t move an inch. He was perfectly content to stay right there, touching her, feeling her - _and she was letting him_ \- knowing he _couldn’t_ have more because there _wasn’t_ more…

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as they stood there, staring at each other, but he didn’t care…

She made the first move.

Felicity untangled her fingers from his and tentatively pushed her other arm around him as well, _hugging him_ , and Oliver felt a sudden floating sensation that made him want to close his eyes and sink right in. She sprawled one hand across the small of his back as the other moved up, her fingers brushing over his skin, making him shiver, following the muscles until she reached his spine.

She never looked away.

Oliver couldn’t read the look in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

He slowly wrapped his arms around her, his hands following her arms up to her shoulders, her hair tickling his fingers. When his thumb brushed against her pulse point - her heart was racing, and Oliver’s leapt into his throat.

He took a tremulous breath, feeling like any second he was going to either melt or burst into a million pieces right there.

This was goddamn _ridiculous_. 

How could a simple touch affect him so much? How could one look from her send him tripping over himself until he forgot what words were? 

Her hands ghosted over his back, making him feel faint… her nails scraped lightly, sending goosebumps skittering across his skin… Felicity closed her eyes, turning her face down, angling her head so her cheek grazed his hand.

His heart was pounding so fast he was afraid he might pass out.

“Felicity,” he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise surrounding them, but she heard her it, her eyes opening, meeting his.  


Oliver’s hands moved of their own accord - he wrapped one around her shoulders again, his fingers skating over her bra straps, itching to slide underneath them - not to _remove_ it, but to get _closer_ to her - while his other moved to cup her neck, slowly sliding up until he was cupping her face.

Was she trembling, or was that him?

He couldn’t tell.

The music moved around them, the people swaying as one, adding to the intimate little bubble they were creating.

Oliver brushed his thumb across her cheek and her eyes fluttered, her lips parting in a soft breath. 

Felicity turned her face up to his and he leaned down. 

His eyes slipped shut, hyper aware of every single bit of her that he touched, of where her fingers rested, of the way she smelled - like rain-drenched citrus and strawberry lemonade - of how _good_ she felt…

He leaned down until their lips weer barely touching, until they were sharing the same breath, until he felt every bit of her like he was inside her, feeling them alongside her…

The hum under her skin, the hitch in her breathing, the tiny whimper…

And then the music suddenly changed, shifting back into a fast-paced song that had the crowd around them erupting, shoving against them, pushing them apart.  


The moment was gone.

Oliver pulled back in time to see her gazing up at him, her brow furrowed…

“Oliver, that…”  


“Hey, it finally stopped raining!” someone shouted and Felicity’s eyes widened before she turned to look outside, shattering their connection.

Oliver’s heart dropped and he quickly closed his eyes, chastising himself.

What was he doing? He had more self-control than _that,_ he’d almost…

It’d stopped raining. She was going to leave, get back to her life, get out of the stupid pit of debauchery he’d buried himself in, a place where she had no business, a place he wanted her to get out of…

“Here,” Oliver said, tugging his room key out of the hidden pocket in his briefs. 

Her eyes flew back to him as he stepped back, forcing her to drop her arms. 

Oliver grabbed her hand and pressed the key into her palm before dropping it like her skin was on fire. 

It might as well have been. 

“What…” Felicity stared at the key and then at him, frowning like she wasn’t quite sure what he was doing.

Right. 

Because he was Oliver “Ollie” Queen, she had every reason to think he’d do something like that: tell her to head on up, to lose the bra and panties and tuck herself into his bed, that he’d be up after he shut the party down…

That’s probably exactly what he would have done if she hadn’t shown up, with whoever’d caught his attention that night.

His mouth tasted sour at the thought of doing that with her.

Instead he nodded to the stairs.

“If you dial ‘5′ on the phone in my room, it’ll link you to our driver. He lives on the property, and he’ll be able to take you back to your car, or wherever you need to go.”  


Felicity blinked with a soft, “Oh,” looking back at the key. She lifted it in question and he said, “If I’m not down here, just leave it by the front door.”

“Oh… okay then,” she said, giving him a tight smile. 

She didn’t leave for a second, staring at him. Oliver blinked, inhaling slowly… _waiting_ … for what? He wasn’t quite sure, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping she’d do, or what he’d do, but the weirdest sensation of fear kept him from moving.

She broke eye contact first. 

“Sorry about crashing,” she said, waving at the party.  


Oliver gave her a short laugh, fighting to keep his eyes on her face as he said, “Sorry for making you get undressed.”

“Yes, right,” Felicity said, lifting her eyebrows. “I was not expecting that when I chose this bra.” She made a face. “Not that I put that much thought into it, or care… about it, in this sense, because… I guess?” She closed her eyes with a self-deprecating laugh, one that made everything in Oliver soften. God, she was so cute. “And now you get to deal with up-all-night Felicity. She’s a riot.”  


Oliver smiled, saying, “I like every side of you I’ve seen,” before he could stop the words. 

Felicity blinked at him, and he swore she blushed before she ducked her head, tucking her face away from him.

She held up the key with a, “Thanks again,” and then she turned, making her way through the crowd. He watched her all the way to the stairs. She paused, looking like she was going to look back, and Oliver looked away before she didn’t.

*

The house was toning down, people going to sleep, some leaving, the new day starting to make itself known ending the party.

Oliver tugged the large quilt tighter around him, staring at the sun rays starting to highlight the horizon. It was a rich, dusky orange, intermixed with bright pinks and low purples, coloring the land it touched as the sun slowly rose, bringing warmth to the rain-ravaged world. Everything was perfectly clear, the air clean and crisp, mist hovering over the field that stretched out behind the house, making everything look ethereal.

One of his favorite things about when it rained this far out in the country was how cold it was right before the sun rose; it was refreshing, like everything had been washed clean and was waking up renewed.

He was usually too drunk to appreciate it, to even _see_ the sun rising, passed out somewhere or trying to kick people out before the cops showed up _again_. 

But tonight…

Oliver sighed, leaning on his knees, letting the cold wet wood of the porch sink into his bones through the quilt. His mom would kill him if she knew he was using his grandmother’s quilt for this, but his room was too far… and she might still be up there, getting dressed, waiting for the car to arrive so she could leave. He didn’t have any classes with her this semester, something that was supposed to be a good damn thing, which meant the chances of seeing her again were pretty much slim to none.

A sharp stab hit him right in the heart and he smirked at his idiot self.

He didn’t realize how much he really liked her until she was right there, until she was back in his world, like a stupid flare gun right into his chest cavity.

He’d been so close tonight, all he would’ve had to do was take that final step towards her, close the space between them, feel her body against his, her hands on his arms, her nails scraping along his shoulder until she reached his neck where he’d shiver because it was _her_ touch…

For the millionth time since he’d met her, he wondered what she’d taste like. She’d be responsive, he knew that, she was one of the most emotionally aware people he’d ever met and he _knew_ she’d be the same if he kissed her… but it’d probably end with her slapping him, and he’d deserve it. Every damn moment he’d seen her tonight, he could have done something, but that felt too much like he was taking advantage.

Because it _was_ taking advantage - she was stranded at his house, a house filled with strangers, wearing next to nothing and drinking way more than was entirely necessary.

He never wanted to take advantage of Felicity Smoak.

“God, Queen, you are a fucking mess,” he said despondently, burying his face in the quilt, taking a deep breath. It was a little musty from sitting in the closet but it smelled like home at the same time, and it let him relax a little bit, let him settle in his pit of self-pitying…  


“A mess, huh?”  


Oliver jumped at the voice, his heart leaping into his throat as he spun.

“Felicity,” he breathed, an incredulous smile covering his face. She was still in her bra and panties where she leaned out the backdoor, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, uncertainty coloring her face. He blinked. “What are you doing here, I thought you left.”  


“Well, I, uh…” She hesitated, biting the tip of her tongue before she stepped outside completely, a little shiver wracking her frame as she took a tentative step towards him. “Is there room in there for me?”  


“What?” Oliver asked - _what?_ \- and the second the word came out he started, the meaning behind her question hitting him. He nodded, opening the blanket to make room for her. “Oh, yeah, yeah, come on, come here.”  


Felicity smiled and darted over, stepping down the steps before pushing herself into the space he’d made… which was right flush against him. Oliver inhaled sharply, barely keeping himself from making the little sound edging its way from his throat as she pushed herself closer, seeking his warmth. 

Oliver pulled the quilt around her, cocooning her in with him, his arm wrapping around her chilled back, pulling the blanket in tight.

“Better?” he whispered and she nodded, shifting, and he felt every bit of it. His eyes fluttered shut, his body instinctively turning into hers, taking a deep breath, inhaling her.

She smelled like she’d been at a party all night, like she’d gotten caught in a nasty rainstorm, like she’d had her hair styled before the rain demolished it, and… _Felicity_.

It took him a second to realize she was cuddling herself closer, wrapping her arms around his chest, her body expanding as she took in a deep breath.

He felt the tension leaving her body, like she was actually… _comfortable_ , like she was…

The instant it hit him, a manic hysteria slammed into his chest, flooding his veins. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, his throat becoming tight.

_Felicity Smoak was cuddling with him._

“What are you doing?” he asked, the words coming out in a choked whisper.

She froze.  


“Uh… oh god, did I read too much into…” 

Felicity suddenly pulled back, looking up at him with wide eyes - for a split second he was stunned speechless not by the fact that she was cuddling with him, that she was there at all, but that her eyes were so _blue_ ; they were so clear, so beautiful, so… _Felicity._

“This was dumb, wasn’t it?” Her eyes slammed shut as she pulled away from him, her mouth running away from her, “I was at your door upstairs, and I was so tired, I just… the thought of going home was a lot and I didn’t… want to, as stupid as that sounds, because… I didn’t go in and I was like, ‘Why am I not going in, just get out of here, you had a really crappy night, and your car is still out there somewhere and you’re exhausted,’ but I didn’t, because I… and I… okay, I know _why_ I didn’t, and now I’m just a giant idiot for thinking that you felt the same way too, oh my… god, I can’t believe…”  


She clapped her hands to her face with a pitiful groan.

Oliver’s jaw dropped.

“I cannot believe I thought this was a good idea,” she moaned, and then she nodded rapidly, looking anywhere but at him as she pushed on his arm. “I’ll just go now.”  


“No, wait,” Oliver blurted, grabbing her before she got too far. Her eyes flew to his in surprise - fear was laced in there, and he wanted to erase it completely. “Don’t… go. Please.”  


“… what?”

“Stay,” he said, his tongue feeling seven times bigger than it was as he looked at her… as she looked at him. “I want you to stay.”  


“You do?” she asked, her eyes becoming luminescent, and the sight made his stomach clench. 

“Yes,” Oliver said, nodding. “A lot.” A small smile tugged at his lips, one that grew as he said, “Badly. Very much… a lot.”  


Felicity laughed, a shaky sound that mirrored the _‘holy fuck is this really happening?’_ sloshing through his system. She bit her lip, looking uncertain, and then she scooted a little closer again. When she didn’t wrap her arms around his waist, Oliver surprised them both by wrapping his around her, hauling her against him. She let out a shocked, “Oh,” and a spontaneous smile lit up her face as she turned in his arms, curling up against him, making the little cocoon a lot warmer than it had been just a moment ago.

She snaked her arms around his waist, her hands skating over his skin.

“Is this… is this okay?” she whispered and a breathy chuckle escaped him.

_Was it okay?_

“Very okay,” he replied, his eyes slipping shut. He pulled her in closer, tightening his arm around her back.

Felicity rested her head on his shoulder, staring out at the misty field along with him as the world around them grew warmer. When she’d settled, Oliver gently rested his cheek on the top of her head, feeling more awake and alive than he had in a very long time.

The floating sensation was back as his mind spun out of control. Every time the words, _“Does this mean…”_ snapped through his head, he immediately squashed them, pushing the hope down… because he didn’t want to push it, he didn’t want to push her away by thinking it was more, not until he knew what she wanted, what she was there for…

He knew it wasn’t healthy at all that he was very willing to be whatever she wanted in that moment… because if he could just have a glimpse, a taste, a moment…

Holding her like he was, right then, watching the sunrise, it was…

_Perfect._

He was in trouble, and he didn’t even care. He’d care later, afterwards, but for now… now he had her and he was going to bask.

“Are you…” he started, his voice rough. He swallowed as she shifted slightly before she pulled back to look at him. He looked down at her, at the way the sun made her skin glow, how her eyes sparkled, the rays emphasizing everything about her… He couldn’t read the look on her face still, he couldn’t decipher the way she was looking at him, and he was afraid to identify what he saw swirling in her eyes. “Does this… are you staying?”

He had no idea what the hell he was asking.

Oliver closed his eyes in exasperation. For fuck’s sake, he couldn’t even _speak_ around her, what the hell was he asking?

He _wanted_ her to stay with him, but he didn’t.

He _wanted_ her to say she wanted to go upstairs with him, but he didn’t.

He wanted… he just wanted _her_ , and he didn’t know how to say it, how to tell her that, not after everything they’d been through.

She was silent, her face stoic. She didn’t look away, and he couldn’t bring himself to either… but the silence grew heavier, staining the air around them - _around him_ \- and before he could fully listen to the voice telling him to just  _relax_ , he blurted, “Not… you don’t have to… I meant there are extra rooms, if you don’t… I don’t want to make you think I’m asking you to stay with me, I’m not… asking that.”

“I thought I was the only one who talked in sentence fragments,” she whispered, a tiny smile gracing her words.

“I can’t think when I’m around you,” Oliver replied without thinking, and her eyes widened, dancing over his face before dropping to his lips as he finished, “I can’t… I don’t know what to say… when I’m near you, Felicity, I don’t… know what to say.”

Felicity took in a tremulous breath - he felt her lungs inhaling in jerky movements, her chest pressing against his side - and then she let it out slowly.

Her eyes met his.

“I want you to ask me to stay,” she said softly. “With you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was rude, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, guys! To be honest, that last scene I needed to add became two scenes, and both much longer and much smuttier than anticipated. It’s also not done yet (I’m getting my scattered ass back on track, I swear).
> 
> There will be a Part 3 (we will get to see what was in his hand from Part 1)!
> 
> I also literally have no idea what this is. It’s a weird conglomeration of sitting down at multiple times to write this and seeing what happens. I tried a lot of new things to change the dynamic between Oliver and Felicity, to turn the tables between them, to see how they react differently… and all those changes come to a head in the third part when they finally come together. I did not put a lot of time into editing/re-drafting, so you’re getting a nicely uncut version of what my brain can vomit up when it lacks restrictions. I apologize for mistakes!
> 
> I hope you guys liked it!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/130665264779/wanna-be-yours-part-2-olicity-college-au)
> 
>  
> 
> [ **NOTE: This story has been continued in the stand alone story Wanna Be Yours - check it out!** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5105783)


	18. Sharing Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous - Prompt: 027: “I’ll share the blankets with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [Best Friends](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089/chapters/10636836).

“I’ll share the blankets with you.”

“You said that last time.”

Felicity huffed. “And it was true.”

Oliver stared at the back of her head as she scrolled through the movies on her tablet, the screen the only thing lighting her tiny little tent.   


Trees rustled outside, the fire still crackling where Diggle was putting it out before he climbed into his and Lyla’s tent. It was their fifth night out and it was a peaceful one; there was nothing else but the sound of their breathing, the wind brushing through the leaves and the soft crunch of deer somewhere in the distance.

And her nail tapping on her tablet as she moved through the movie options, completely oblivious to his heavy glare. Only Felicity Smoak would bring her entire electronic arsenal on a week-long camping trip.

Not that he was complaining.   


They’d already mapped the entire sky the first two nights, they’d nearly fallen off a ledge they hadn’t seen when they’d been drunkenly wandering around the third night and the fourth night they’d stayed up all night talking. Which was great… except it wasn’t great because the intimate air of lying next to each other, face-to-face, their conversation dissolving into whispers because Diggle had thrown a rock at them with a _‘shut the hell up, Queen, or I’ll shut you up’_ in his tent had almost been too much.

It would’ve been so easy to reach over, to just… touch her cheek, brush her hair behind her ear… to lean in, to _feel_ her… She’d been so close.

Diggle’s words, _“I swear to god, if you don’t just get it over with and ask her out, I’ll be the one stabbing you with a spork,”_ echoed in his head.

He’d tried, once, and it’d crashed and burned when he’d shown up and she’d thought it was just a friends thing. He’d immediately agreed when she’d gotten that little furrow between her brow, noticing he was actually dressed to go out, too damn embarrassed to admit he’d really been asking her on a date-date.   


A _real_ date, not a thing as friends.

But that’s what they were to her: _friends_.   


He could be just friends.

So he’d made up a pathetic story about wanting to practice how he dressed for his dates and then he’d tossed his jacket on the couch and toed his shoes off and they’d watched reruns of Real Housewives until they both fell asleep.

And it’d be a cold day in hell when he admitted that it’d been far preferable to going out, that his heart had skipped twenty beats when she’d put her feet in his lap, that the little hum she’d given him hadn’t made his fingers tremble when he’d started rubbing her feet or that he’d had to move her legs a little because his pants got too tight when she’d readjusted, forcing her tank top up, revealing her silky smooth skin of her back…

Just friends.  


“No,” Oliver answered her slowly. “What was true was it started out that way. And then I woke up freezing my ass off, wondering why the hell I was freezing, and looked over to see you curled up in a giant comforter ball.”

She snorted loudly… and then she paused. Oliver was already nodding because they both knew he was right as she said, “Alright, fine. _Maybe_ that was true. But it was cold, Oliver!”

“Yeah, I know! I was the one who was cold!”

“Oh please,” Felicity said, settling on a movie - The Princess Bride. She propped her tablet up against the flimsy tent wall, the giant play icon waiting to be pushed as she settled back. She puffed up her pillow and Oliver just watched her, unable to keep the smile off his lips as she went through her routine. She moved her hair, she twisted a little, she pushed her arm under her pillow before changing her mind, she fixed her shirt because it was bunched under her…

She finally wiggled, setting in and then she looked back. “There’s not enough room for that giant thing you call a blanket. If we’re watching this movie, you gotta hop in.”

Oliver made a show of sighing loudly - more of a giant huff of air that made her roll her eyes - before he tossed his blanket at the bottom of the tent and threw his pillow next to hers. It whacked her in the head and she gave him a sour, “Hey, jerk,” as he pulled her blanket open, making her squeak when the cool air hit her.  


“Scoot your ass over then, Smoak,” he said, laying down next to her, very, very focused on just getting comfortable as she pushed the play button. But when he was settled, he couldn’t see the screen. “Your head’s in the way.”

Felicity let out an incredulous laugh, elbowing him as the movie started, making him gasp in pain. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Then get over here, Queen, I’m not moving.” She settled in again, facing the tablet. “I’m in my comfy zone.”

“Alright,” Oliver said, wrapping his arm around her waist, pushing himself up so he could prop his chin on the crown of her head, crowding her pillow and her as he wrapped himself around her, cuddling closer until there was no room left between them… and until he could see the screen.

Because that was why he did that.   


_To see the screen._

Not to feel her lithe body pressed against his, her plump bottom crushed between them, her warmth seeping into him, making the little cocoon they’d just created a hell of a lot warmer. Not to feel the way her breath caught or how her heart felt like it was _pounding_ under his touch - sending his into near convulsions - or how she scooted a little closer, almost like she wasn’t aware she was doing it.

Oliver swallowed unsteadily, taking a slow - _slow -_ deep breath, his fingers unconsciously holding her tighter. She shifted, moving her feet, pressing her toes back between his legs, effectively tangling them together as they both stared blindly at the tablet.

“Comfortable?” he breathed, dipping his face down so his lips pressed to her head. She nodded and he closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of her dry shampoo and the wilderness they’d been living in.

“Yeah,” she whispered… and then her hand dropped down, her fingers sliding between his on her stomach.   


Oliver’s heart lurched - was she going to push him away, was he getting too close, was this too much? - but then she pressed his hand harder into her softness and he found himself wrapping himself tighter around her.

They didn’t speak after that, and he barely remembered the movie despite that fact that he’d seen it a dozen times already. All he could concentrate on was her - how she breathed, how her heart was staying at a constant thrum that matched his, that they only moved closer to each other… and that they woke up the next morning, completely tangled around each other, his face pressed into her neck, hers buried in his hair… that her hand was pushed into collar of his shirt, sprawled over his upper back while his had slid under her shirt, curling against her side, like it was the most natural thing in the world…

She didn’t move when he started pressing soft kisses to her neck in his sleep… and when she moved to brush her lips across his ear, making him shiver, he didn’t say anything…

They didn’t talk about it when they both finally woke up, or when they stepped out of her tent, both ignoring the smirk on Diggle’s face, or when they went hiking later that day and Oliver caught her around the waist when she caught a rock at the wrong angle, or when she dug her fingers into the band of his pants for leverage as they climbed up a particularly steep incline.

They didn’t talk about it… and they didn’t talk about it when she turned on another movie, and he snuck into her tent, crawling beneath her blanket, wrapping himself around her again.

Except this time she turned in his embrace, burying her face in his chest as the movie played behind her. Neither of them heard it or saw it or cared as they just… existed.

Oliver wasn’t sure what had happened, or what had changed… or what he was doing when it happened again the next night and then the night after that before it was time to go home…

Or when she invited him over to her apartment to watch a movie and she curled herself around him on her couch instead of her usual position…

Or when he picked her up to put her in her bed and she grabbed his shirt, tugging him in with her…

Or when they woke up together the next morning…

Or when it happened like that over and over, and each and every single time he told himself to just do it - _kiss her_ \- but he never did…   


Until she did it for him.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/131030546289/27)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	19. Romantic Proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous - Prompt: 050: “I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing.”

“Where the hell did she go?” Oliver asked, his eyes scanning the ballroom. “I just saw her…”  


“Afraid she came to her senses and finally ran away?” Tommy asked, taking another sip of his champagne, his eyes dancing over the crowded room. The dry glare Oliver sent him made him smile. “I’m just saying. She claims to be this ridiculously smart chick and yet for some reason she’s in love with you.”  


“You’re hilarious,” Oliver said, looking around again. 

Butterflies were actually  _attacking_  his stomach, they were physically _assaulting_  him - he felt like throwing up. Tonight was the night, tonight was the night he was going to ask her to marry him and he was so nervous he’d accidentally slammed four glasses of champagne before realizing what he was doing. The bubbles weren’t helping anything.  


“She’s going to say yes,” Tommy said, patting him on the back. 

It jostled the butterflies, making them even more harried than they were a second ago. Oliver swallowed, gnawing on the tip of his tongue, trying to spot his girlfriend like the frantic lunatic he was becoming. 

Tommy angled his head to look at his face. He grinned, not a single ounce of concern present as he said, “You look like you’re gonna ralph.”

“That’s probably because I want to,” Oliver replied, wiping his damp palms on his pants. 

Why was he so nervous? He had absolutely nothing to be nervous about, he _knew_  Felicity loved him, that she would say yes - they’d even talked about it a few times over the last several years, especially when people started asking the inevitable questions: 

_“_ _When are the wedding bells?”_

_“Kids?”_

_“You guys have the white picket fence yet?”_  

He loved her, and she loved him, he _knew_  that… but he couldn’t stop the nervous herd in his stomach trying to choke him to death. They hadn’t started out so easy, not even a little, and they’d gone through so much to get to this point…

It had to go perfectly.

_It had to._

“Oh, there she is!” Tommy said, pointing towards the stage. Oliver’s eyes flew over and the second he spotted her, it was like a blanket of calm draped over him. He let out a sigh of relief, making Tommy laugh. “God, I should’ve told her to leave just to mess with you.”  


“Tommy, I don’t care what night it is,” Oliver said, gripping his shoulder. “I will punch you.”  


His best friend only laughed, patting him on the back, screwing with the butterflies _again_. Oliver ignored him, his eyes on his girlfriend as she made her way… up onto the stage? And she was carrying a microphone?

“What is she doing?” he asked, and Tommy shrugged.  


“Hi, everyone, hi,” Felicity said, waving at the crowd. “Can I… can I have your attention please? Or… is that what people ask, for your attention? That’s so business-like, this isn’t a business thing. Let’s get the… ah, yep, there it is, that’s the spotlight. I can’t even believe this place _has_ a spotlight, that seems excessive… alright, hi, hello.”  


Oliver smiled, furrowing his brow. What was she doing?

“So… I had this whole speech prepared, where I thanked everyone for coming, that this is the best birthday ever, that I’m so glad so many of you wanted to dress up and drink cupcake shots with me… and if you haven’t had one, you’re really missing out… but now that I’m up here, I’m just going to cut to the chase. Um… Oliver? Can you come up here?”  


His stomach dropped as Tommy shoved him forward.

“Oliver? Are you… oh, there you are, hi.” Felicity grinned at him, a grin that made his butterflies even more nervous as she waved for him to join her. “Can you come up here?”  


Oh god. What was she doing?

Despite the fact that his legs felt numb, Oliver made his way up to the stage. She met him halfway, lacing her fingers through his, pulling him front and center with her. 

She was talking again, he was sure of it; he saw her lips moving, saw the crowd making faces that made him assume she was saying something really nice and soft… and she was looking at him, with that look in her eye.

Oh god.

“So… this is the part where I say… Oliver Jonas Queen, I love you. I’ve loved you for most of my life, and it’s time to make it all official-like.”  


Nobody did a single _thing._

“Will you marry me?” she asked, her eyes bright and sparkly, her smile beatific and perfect, her grip on him sure and strong…  


Silence.

Oliver just stared at her.

Was this really happening?

Felicity waited… and then that little line between her brow appeared as she blinked, and then she looked at the crowd, the crowd who was just staring at them, because _they all knew what he was going to do tonight_. What _he_  was going to do tonight, what she was now doing…

“Uh…” Felicity started.  


Oliver laughed. She jerked like he’d just zapped her and he immediately cupped her face and whispered, “I love you so much,” before he kissed her with as much passion and power as he ever had before. Because of course it would happen like this, of course she would beat him to the punch… it was just… _perfect_.

After a second she finally responded, wrapping her arms around him, and the uproarious sound of the crowd erupting surrounded them as they kissed. 

Oliver pulled back, laughing again, running his hands over her face, leaning into her where she gripped his jacket like a lifeline.

“Oh my god,” Felicity breathed. “I thought you were going to say no.”

“God no, I would never say no,” Oliver replied, kissing her again. “But you should know that I was planning on doing this very thing later tonight.”  


Felicity’s jaw dropped. “You were? You… you were going to propose, here?” She looked at the crowd, her mouth working soundlessly. “You…”

“I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to it,” Oliver said, and she blanched. “I have a ring in a souffle somewhere and there was going to be more champagne and…”  


“Oh god, I’m a thunder thief,” Felicity said abruptly, and he laughed. “I stole your thunder. Or one could argue that you stole _my_  thunder…”  


“I love you,” Oliver said, kissing her, again and again, words she said with just as much joy as they grinned at each other. He pulled back just enough to whisper, “And yes, I will definitely marry you, Felicity Smoak,” before kissing her once more, sealing the deal.  


The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/131163894834/50)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


	20. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Two exes are in town for their best friends' wedding.

The steady pound of his feet on the pavement was soothing. The impact of the hard ground traveled up his legs, radiating through his muscles as sweat dripped off him, soaking into his shorts and the t-shirt he had tucked in the band. He’d forgotten how damn humid and hot it could get in the summer in the city, the salty air coming off the ocean traveling just far enough to reach them where it became stagnant in the morning sun, making the air thick and hard to breath.

He’d already been running for over an hour and exhaustion was tugging at him, but he kept going, delighting in the deep burn as he turned up a driveway he hadn’t been on in _years_.

He’d avoided it, on purpose, ever since he’d gotten back into Starling City, just like he’d avoided it every single time he’d come back. The last time he’d seen this driveway it’d been dark, the moonlight the only light by which he could see her where she’d stood in the center - _right there_ \- as she’d thrown the ring at him.

The tiny metallic _ping_ of it bouncing off the cracked pavement still echoed in his head. It’d bounced over and over before coming to a stop right before him, the little silver band catching the moonlight, the diamond looking more and more like a black hole the longer it laid there.

He hadn’t picked it up.

He’d stared at it before taking one last look at her… and then he’d turned, getting into his car, driving away.

There were a lot of things Oliver Queen regretted about leaving Starling City… and just leaving that damn ring in the road like he had, sending her that one last cold look, ignoring her quiet, “Oliver, wait…”

That was over ten years ago though, and a lot had happened since then.

Like her parents dying, leaving her the entire property he was entering, as well as her moving away right after their funerals, disappearing.

She hadn’t been back since.

Not that he kept tabs on her.

The house had stood dormant, someone coming by once a month for upkeep.

The outer-lying buildings had fallen into some disrepair.

The house grew shabbier and shabbier as time passed.

He’d allowed himself to drive by it once, but just once… until now.

She hadn’t been back in eight years, and Tommy hadn’t mentioned her accepting the invitation to the wedding. She and Laurel had been best friends, surely she’d be coming… that alone almost had him checking the ‘hell no’ box when he’d gotten the invitation, and he would have had Tommy not sent a handwritten note telling him he’d better collect his ‘pansy Queen balls’ and be there because he wasn’t getting married without his best man.

And so, there he was.

And instead of running on his usual path, he’d decided to take a left turn onto Masochistic Lane.

He’d been in a lot of relationships - if you could even call them that - since then, but nothing that lasted more than a month, much to the chagrin of his mother.

_“How am I going to meet my grandchildren before I die if you can’t find someone to settle down with?”_

He had found someone… and it hadn’t worked.

It was that simple.

Tommy was adamant it wasn’t.

_“You can’t just close that door because it didn’t work with her, Ollie.”_

Yes, yes he damn well could.

Because he still pictured her face whenever he had sex with someone; he still heard the way she sounded when he kissed the spot right behind her ear; he still imagined waking up next to her, imagined the crease in her forehead, the frizz at her temples; he still heard the way she said his name… and he still saw the pain he’d caused her, felt the knife stabbing into him when she’d finally said, _“I can’t do this anymore…”_

Oliver’s eyes scanned the property as he ran, his lungs slowly growing smaller, his airway narrowing because he was…

His eyes landed on a Jeep in the driveway.

Oliver staggered to a stop, his foot catching on a crack, tripping him. He barely caught himself from face-planting on the concrete, his arms flying to find his balance, his chest heaving for air at the abrupt stop. Blood pounded through his veins, rushing through his ears…

He realized too late that he couldn’t feel anything because his heart had just _dropped_ , leaving him with nothing but…

Numbness.

She was there.

She was back.

 _She was there_.

Oliver knew the safest thing to do was to turn and _run_. Go home, pack his bag, call Tommy with an emergency and catch the next flight out, back to his place in Ivy Town, back to anywhere else but _there_. Where she was. Because she was back.

_She was there._

He couldn’t face her, he couldn’t see her… so why was he moving forward? Why was he walking towards the house, towards the Jeep?

Maybe it wasn’t hers, maybe she had renters, or…

His eyes dropped to a white bumper sticker, contrasting sharply with the black paint - it was some sort of binary code joke…

It was her.

“Shit,” Oliver breathed, staring at the sticker, his heart leaping into his throat as he looked at the house, his eyes running over every inch of it. Now that he was closer he saw the open windows, he saw the rug back out on the porch, he saw the _signs that she was living there._ “Shit.”

She was there, _she was there_.

Before he could fully process this, before he could get past the way his arms suddenly felt like they were going to fall right the fuck off - like he was going to collapse right there because his heart _stopped fucking working_ \- he heard a metallic clink.

Oliver’s heart jumped right out of his chest and landed on the ground in a splattered mess.

He spun towards the large barn-sized garage that stood about thirty feet from the house.

The door was open.

Another metallic clink sounded… and he was moving towards it before he knew what his feet were doing.

What was he doing? Run, get the hell away, _run_ …

Oliver moved soundlessly, using everything he’d learned during his training on Lian  Yu, moving so quietly he was barely a whisper on the air…

He slowly rounded the barn, his eyes following the faded lined of the red-painted wood until he reached the corner…

A Maserati was hiked up off the ground and lying right beneath it was a stained mat and…

He nearly swallowed his tongue.

Felicity Smoak was on the ground, wearing nothing but a shredded black tank top and a white thong.

_A white thong._

Underneath a car.

Oliver forgot how to breathe, to the point black dots started dancing across his vision.

Her back was arched, moving in time with something she was tightening under the car…

She still worked on cars. She still fixed cars, she was still… into doing that, except now… now she wore practically _nothing_ while doing it.

She used her feet as leverage to tighten whatever she was doing and he heard her exasperated sigh before she relaxed, her smudged hand shooting out with a muffled, “Where’s the other wrench, Carl?”

Carl?

Acid filled his stomach and he nearly choked, fighting to keep himself from making a sound. There was a man here, she was here with a man, with someone else…

He should go, he should _leave_ before anyone saw him…

 _Get the fuck out_ …

But all he saw was her hand waving around, her fingers stained with oil and grease, a black smear crawling up her arm. She let it flop lifelessly on the ground in irritation and then she was inching over, trying to find it herself…

“Carl, you’re supposed to be my helper, darn it!” she said loudly, her voice echoing through the barn.

Oliver was moving before he could tell himself not to because somehow his brain had completely disconnected from his body, like a traitorous piece of shit.

Felicity froze for a quick millisecond when she spotted his feet before relaxing again.

Oliver leaned over and pushed the wrench towards her reaching fingers.

“You know I don’t like when you sneak up on me when I’m under your car, Tommy,” she said as she grabbed the wrench and pulled it under with her.

Everything inside him went ice cold. _Tommy?_ Tommy knew she was back? _Tommy knew?_ A vivid rush of anger and hurt flooded his system, chalky acid crawling its way up his throat until he wanted to throw up. Tommy knew, and he’d had him come here, he’d brought him back to Starling City when he _knew_ …

He hadn’t said _a goddamn thing_.

He was going to kill him.

Tommy was going to die.

Because he’d brought Oliver here, in the first place, _knowing_ why he didn’t come back here… and because he obviously saw Felicity in so little clothes that his best friend needed to have his eyes gouged out.

How long had she been back?

How long had Tommy known?

Why had nobody told him?

Felicity set the tool down with a sigh and grabbed an oil-stained rag… and then she started wiggling her way out from under the car, sending a shot of adrenaline so potent slamming into his chest that he felt lightheaded.

She worked her way out, and Oliver’s eyes immediately latched onto her toned stomach, her lush hips, the way her thighs jiggled as she maneuvered her way out. She had dirty smears all over her - across her hip, staining her panties, on her ribs, slipping under that thing she called a shirt…

She thrust her hand out to him again.

“You could help me out instead of just standing there, ogling me,” she said, and Oliver almost - _almost_ \- didn’t take her hand. He almost turned and ran. “Come on, hurry up, your fiancée told me I had to be at the dress shop at five or she was going to skin me alive. Nobody wants a skinless maid of honor, Tommy, that’s just gross.”

_Maid of honor._

He was the best man.

Was nobody going to fucking _tell him?_

He really was going to throw up.

“Tommy!”

He could actually _feel_ his heart in his throat, suffocating him.

Like he was moving in slow motion, Oliver gripped her hand, his breath catching at the warmth of her skin, at the little spark that made his palm feel like it was on fire as he helped her out from under the car. She faltered, for a quick second, like she felt it too - felt that _spark_ , that spark they’d always had, even when things between them kept going south - but then she gripped him back, and rolled out from under the Maserati…

And then Felicity was looking up at him, his beautiful Felicity.

She looked almost the exact same - she was older, her hair longer, a little darker, her face more stark, having lost the roundness her early twenties had given her in her cheeks… but she was just as gorgeous as ever with her dark frames and the grease smudges all over her forehead and nose…

Her eyes widened, visibly paling.

“Oliver,” she breathed, his name cracking at the end.

He couldn’t respond.

He just stared at her.

His Felicity.

She’d gained weight, her body having settled more into its perfect proportions. The shirt was cut low, obviously something she only wore when she was working on a car because it was in tatters, practically painted on her across her chest, revealing full breasts…

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

A vivid memory shot through his head of one of their many nights when they’d snuck out of their houses, lying in the back of his truck, a thick blanket under them, one slung over them as they explored each other… he would always remember the way her spine curved, how her hip cut into her abdomen, the sounds she made when he brushed his fingertips over her ribs, how her fingers carded through his hair when he wrapped his mouth around her nipple, her leg coming up to cradle him closer, her thigh brushing over the heavy bulge in his jeans, making him groan…

_“Felicity…”_

She’d always loved the way he said her name.

Oliver wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, staring at each other, their hands gripped together so tightly his fingers started to feel cold. Her nails were digging into him, a fine tremble starting to shake along the edges of her muscles…

She blinked… looking like he’d just pulled the rug right out from under her.

Which he had.

By just _being there_.

He should’ve just fucking ran like he wanted to.

“Come on,” Oliver said softly, and then he hauled her up.

She wasn’t prepared for him to yank her up, and he wasn’t ready for her to stumble like her feet had been cut off, falling into him.

Felicity let out a startled noise, not letting go of his hand as her other arm wrapped around his shoulders, her palm sliding across his sweaty skin as his arm fell around her waist, catching her… He pulled her flush against him, her naked skin pressing against his, making her breath catch in surprise and something else, the sound ramping up his nerves. He tried to breathe, tried to remember what the world had felt like with her _not_ in his arms, but that was suddenly so far away, so very far away…

She felt like…

_Home._

“You’re really sweaty,” she said abruptly, and an involuntary smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at her. She was staring at his chest, blinking, her chest moving with rapid breaths, sending air dancing across his wet skin… “I… I mean, you are like… really sweaty, and… big. Were you always this big?”

Oliver chuckled, his smile widening as warmth unfurled in his chest - god, he’d missed her babbles, missed the way she let go, how unfettered she was.

Her eyes flew up to his.

“You’re not Tommy,” she whispered.

“No,” he replied, his eyes drifting down to her lips of their own volition. “I’m definitely not Tommy.”

“Oliver…” she said, his name coming out in a breathless gasp that made him shiver.

_“Oliver…”_

She gripped him tighter… and his lids slid shut as he pulled her closer, almost like it was muscle memory…

_Felicity…_

She leaned into him, just enough, just enough to make him shudder, to make him realize other parts of his body were very awake, that his body remembered her very, very well, and she was _right there_ … and that it’d be so easy to push her back, to lift her up, to set her on the car, to _show_ her how much he’d missed her, how much he still thought about her, how much he wished things had been different, that she was still his…

Felicity shivered, like she was reading his mind, and she pushed herself up on her toes involuntarily, pushed herself _closer_ … before she stopped.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, a new edge in her voice.

It shattered the moment.

What _was_ he doing there?

“I’m… here for the wedding,” he replied.

“Oliver…” Felicity shook her head, her brow furrowing. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Oliver opened his mouth to reply… but he stopped, biting his tongue until it stung.

He knew.

Of course he fucking knew what she meant.

He opened his mouth again - to _respond_ , to say something, _anything_ \- but there was nothing to say. They’d both said enough last time.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Oliver said.

Some part of him had known she’d be there… it was why his first instinct had been to check the decline box, why he’d ran this direction, ran down her driveway… it was what he did, what he’d always done - he took salt and rubbed it in the open, raw wound, infecting it, making it bleed…

Oliver let her go, stepping back, not missing the way her hand followed him, how it lingered in the air, like she was reaching for him… but then she pulled it back. Her eyes never left his, those beautiful blue eyes that were so open, so warm and trusting and happy… now they were closed off, her face shuttered.

_Cold._

Oliver took a short breath and shook his head quickly. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

They both knew he wasn’t just talking about barging into her garage like he had.

Oliver didn’t wait for her to respond.

He abruptly turned and took off, running back down the driveway.

He stepped right on the spot where her engagement ring had landed…

The spot where he’d gotten into his car and driven away from his life…

The spot where he’d seen her last, a hunched over figure slowly growing smaller in his rearview mirror until the dust stole her away…

Oliver ran…

From the garage…

From the house…

From _her_.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/131396388489/exes-ust-is-one-of-my-favorite-tropes-ever-in-the)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


	21. Pink Boxers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous - prompt: your stray red item turned my whites pink or the time felicity turned oliver's boxers pink

It was nearing midnight when Felicity opened the laundromat door and poked her head in. It was deserted, not a single soul about… except two of the washers were running - including the one she’d used just a few hours ago, _frak_   _on a cracker of_ _fraks_ \- and one of the dryers was tumbling something heavy.

Felicity’s eyes darted around as she stepped in, angling her head to see if the Sam was at the desk, but it was empty.

Then who was using the washer? And why had they picked the _one_ washer she’d used earlier?

Felicity paused, holding her breath, trying to hear if the person was coming back. Maybe they were one of those weirdos who left their clothes at the laundromat and then just _left,_ running errands or doing whatever trusting people did. She’d tried it once, when she’d first moved to Starling City, and she’d come back to find all the crotches in her panties cut out… which wasn’t exactly the best way to start her day, since she’d had to go to work right afterwards.

Crotchless panties weren’t as sexy as she’d always been led to believe. In fact, they were pretty damn _uncomfortable_ because _drafty,_  and she hadn’t trimmed anything down there in a while so she’d had some _hair_   _tugging_  issues.

And now she’d left her work top in the dryer - or washer, god she hoped it wasn’t the washer because it was far more strange to go through someone’s _wet_ clothes than their _dry_ clothes. That was laundromat _logic_.

The entire place was quiet, seemingly deserted.

Felicity darted over to the dryer she’d been using and wrenched it open, but it was empty. She felt around, hoping she’d feel the bright red tank top with the shiny ‘Heart’s Cove’ written all over it, but it wasn’t there.

“Frak,” she whispered, turning to the washer. She looked around again before she stepped over and pulled the top up and… 

Her heart sank. 

“Oh… god.”  


The entire load was filled with whites… well, what had once upon a time been whites. Now they were all pink, a nice shade of light pink that only came from a bleeding red top that… Felicity angled her head and spotted the tank top where it’d been been shoved under the lip.

Felicity grabbed at it, her finger slipping on the wet material before she got a good grip. The top was stuck, and she almost yanked on it as hard as she could before remembering she really didn’t want to tear her work shirt.

The nice thing to do would be to stay and apologize, it would be to explain what happened, or say she’d replace everything… except she was so broke she could barely afford to wash her clothes, much less replace someone’s entire wardrobe.  


“Oh. My. _God_ , get _out_.”  


It took her two minutes to work it free, and when it finally slipped out, she let out a harried breath, staring at the mangled mess, wondering how she was going to dry it before she slammed the top shut and spun…

… and ran right into someone’s chest. A big chest, a huge chest, a chest that had wide shoulders and was covered in a black t-shirt.

Felicity’s eyes widened as she looked up into the face of doom… and her heart crawled right up her throat and almost right out her mouth when she caught a look at him.

He was _gorgeous_ … all full lips with cheeks covered in stubble - god, she loved stubble, she loved how it felt when she… _no, focus_  - and eyes that seemed to slice right into her, bright blue eyes with little flecks of dark green… eyes that were narrowing…

His eyes dropped to the red item in her hand and then over her shoulder to the washer, realization dawning.

“Did you…” 

“Sorry,” she squeaked and then she ran. 

She vaguely heard him shouting, “Hey, come back here!” after her but she was already out the door, the bell tingling her escape. She didn’t stop running until she reached her apartment, mortification and embarrassment following her the entire way.

She was never, ever, ever, _ever_ going back there.

*

Five weeks later, Felicity finally felt comfortable enough going back to the laundromat. 

She’d tried a few others, but they weren’t _hers_ , and they didn’t come with a Sam at the desk. 

Sam had called her to make sure she was okay because he hadn’t seen her in a while, and she’d been too horrified to tell him why she hadn’t been back or to ask if anyone had complained about a crazy blonde ruining people’s white clothes. He hadn’t brought it up, which meant he didn’t know about it… so she started to think maybe she was overreacting. It was _her_ laundromat, after all, she was fairly certain she’d been there first. Maybe she should’ve gone back earlier and demanded he find another one. Or maybe he hadn’t come back at all. Maybe it’d been a one-time thing and she’d spent the last several weeks torturing herself for no reason.

Either way, she was back, and he wasn’t there, so it was good.

Her clothes in the wash, Felicity thumbed through a tech magazine, skimming over everything she’d already read about in her usual blogs. Still, sometimes there was…

The bell over the door sounded and she glanced up… and her blood ran dry. Her skin was suddenly on fire, her stomach doing somersaults at such a ridiculously faste rate she thought she was going to throw up as _he_  walked in, carrying a basket of clothes.

His eyes locked right on her.  


Felicity’s eyes widened, a little, “Meep,” slipping out before she sank down in her chair, pulling the magazine up to hide behind. She shoved the glossy pages right up against her face, her heart pounding as she held her breath, waiting…

_Please don’t come over, please go away, please leave, please, please, please…_

She could actually  _feel_  him stopping in front of her; his presence was like a suffocating blanket being draped over her. 

She didn’t do anything. 

He was _right there_  and he _wasn’t moving_. 

Neither of them moved, for about an eternity, before she finally inched the magazine down.

He was staring down at her, amusement lighting up his eyes, a little smile pulling at his lips and good _god_ , was he this gorgeous last time? The man was beautiful, it should be illegal to be _that_  beautiful, it was likely to cause someone to forget how to speak or breathe or eat or anything…

 _Anything_.

Felicity just stared at him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” he said. “You’re Felicity.”  


_He knew her name, oh god, he knew her name, how’d he know her name, what was happening?_

“What?” she asked, her voice unusually high. “No, no I’m… I’m someone else, not her, nope.” She shook her head. “I’m, uh, I’ve never been here before, actually.”  


“Oh no?” he asked, cocking his head. “I didn’t see you pulling out a red tank top from that washer that had all my white clothes in it a few weeks ago?”  


“No! Of course not, I don’t, uh… well…” Felicity deflated. “Yes, oh god, yes.” She buried her face back in the magazine, her voice muffled as she said, “I am _so sorry_ , I had no idea I’d left it behind it and then I came back and you happened to be using the _one_ machine that I’d been using and really, why you had to use _that one washer_ , I don’t…”  


She thought she heard him setting his basket down and then… he touched her hands, gripping them lightly to pull the magazine out of her face. She forgot how to breathe as he came back into view. 

He was crouched in front of her, the smile he’d been sporting wider, making him even _more_ gorgeous. He was like gorgeous on top of gorgeous, gorgeous people didn’t come to laundromats, surely this was a dream…

Felicity stared at him, his hands not leaving hers as he said, “I kinda like the color pink.”

“What?” she asked dumbly.

“Pink,” he repeated, winking at her before he stood up. “I actually like that color.”  


He tugged his shirt up, and her mind went completely blank when she saw more of his skin… before she noticed the pink boxers sticking out of his jeans.

Felicity stared at them, her jaw dropping.

And then she burst out laughing, her hands flying to cover her mouth and then her face as she giggled..

He was already laughing as he let his shirt fall back down.

“Oh god, I can’t believe this… I’m so sorry, I really am,” she said between laughs, looking back up at him. He was staring down at her, that smile still on his face, and her heart skipped a few beats for a very different reason. Because he was looking at her like _that_. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”  


He nodded, pinching his lips in contemplation. “Well, if I’m going to be completely honest, the only way I’m going to accept an apology is if you buy me a coffee.”

Her mind blanked _again_. 

“A… a coffee? Like…” Felicity asked, blinking. He wasn’t… was he? No… Was he? “Like… a date?”  


He gave her a breathy chuckle, and then he nodded. “Yes. A date. And you also turned all my white clothes pink, I think it’s only fair.”

“I really think you’re still the one paying in this situation, because you…” She waved at him. “You are, like… wow.”  


He laughed. “Trust me,” he said, leaning towards her. “If pink clothes are the only thing I have to endure in order to get a date with you, I’m definitely ahead of the game.”

“… what?”  


“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but you’re always leaving by the time I get here.”  


_What?_

“What?”  


_When?_ _How?_ _What?_ _Huh?_

_What?_

“You’re always leaving, even when I tried to get here early. I always caught you going around the corner, or you were talking to Sam, or…” He grinned. “If pink clothes were what it took, then I would’ve done that weeks ago.”

He… had wanted to… ask her… _what?_

“I’m Oliver,” he said, offering his hand, and she numbly took it. 

A little spark lit up between them palms, making them both jump. Her eyes flew to his, her mouth going dry. His eyes were darker, a little more intense than before…

“So,” he breathed. Butterflies attacked her stomach. “How about that coffee?”  


The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/131625470824/prompt-your-stray-red-item-turned-my-whites-pink)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


	22. Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, one-shot. Felicity waits for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Angst Warning!***
> 
> I’m concentrating heavily on Blood Hands for NaNoWriMo, which explains the lack of ficlets (good news, ya’ll, the UST in BH is back full-force), but I woke up this morning with a rush of feels and an idea. Guess what I’ve been listening to on repeat over and over until the words have bled into my soul?
> 
> **[Hello by Adele](https://youtu.be/YQHsXMglC9A) **
> 
> (If you haven’t watched this video yet, watch it because it, along with the song, inspired this ficlet.)

Felicity stared at the front door.

She’d gotten there ten minutes ago, but the instant her foot had landed on the porch, the instant her eyes found the chipped stained glass he’d installed on the door when a storm had broken the original, when she saw the ornamental frame she’d picked out for the doorbell, when she saw the aged wood in the far corner, now even more worn down from years of abandonment, something they’d talked about replacing but never got around to it… she froze.

Felicity wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her bare arms - she forgot how cold it go up there, at their little cabin, their special place.

Their home.

It was the anniversary, and just like she had for the last four years, Felicity came to their house.

And waited.

For him.

_“Let’s never sell this place,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. Felicity sighed in contentment and turned to him with a quiet hum, pressing her lips to his temple. “It’ll always be ours, no matter what. If something happens, we’ll always have this spot.”_

_“Sounds like something that happens in a cheesy romance movie,” Felicity said before giggling. “That’s very Notebook.”_

_He let out an amused growl and rolled on top of her, the sheet tangling in their naked legs._

_“How else am I going to win you back?” he asked as Felicity wrapped her arms around him, kissing him in-between words. “If we don’t have a place to meet?”_

Happy endings for them were few and far between. They’d spent more time arguing and making up than living a peaceful life with each other, pushing each other to the brink and back, over and over until they inevitably snapped. She’d hated it as much as she’d loved it. It was a relationship of passion, as her mother had described it, one that few people found, one that even fewer were able to keep.

They struggled with that part, keeping each other.

It was only because of the amount of time since she’d last seen him that she was able to see it more clearly…

_“Oliver, wait, please,” she begged, raising her voice to he heard through the downpour. She grabbed his arm but he yanked it out of her grasp as he walked away from her. “Don’t do this. Please.”_

_“Just go, Felicity,” he snapped over his shoulder and Felicity grabbed for him again, trying to lace her fingers through his but he pulled away, shaking his head._

_“Oliver!”_

_“Felicity, stop!” He looked back at her, his face marred with anger and resolve. “I’m done, okay? I’m just…_

_“I’m done.”_

They’d been so young when they met, when they’d fallen in love, and they were both ridiculously stubborn and foolhardy when it came to their hearts. They’d been each other’s first loves, and they’d both fallen _hard_. They loved with their entire beings, and they’d given each other everything, the good _and_ the bad. She’d _known_ , when met him her first weekend at MIT, she’d known he was it.

They got married, they bought a house. They bought their cabin when Felicity sold her company and they’d even talked about getting a dog…

_“Maybe we should start with a fish.”_

_“… Why?”_

_“Well, when Diggle and Lyla went out of town and you said you’d watch their plants, most of them died.”_

_“They did not.”_

_“Those were some sad looking plants, Felicity.”_

_“Yeah, they were sad because they had to keep staring at your naked butt every time you came with me. So really, that was your fault.”_

And children. They talked about children a lot, how many they wanted, names and the kind of life they wanted to give them.

But it never happened.

And it never would.

_“What do you want, Felicity?”_

_“I want you to get out!” Felicity shouted, throwing the closest thing she could find at him. His keys hit him squarely in the chest with a loud thump and the sound made her feel better, almost irrationally better, like a tension bubble had finally popped, and she wanted more._

_She picked up his wallet and threw it, followed by the mail pile and a book and a plate…_

_“Goddamn it, Felicity…!”_

_“No, Oliver!” Felicity clenched her jaw to stop it from trembling as she glared at him, biting the inside of her lip to keep her tears at bay. He wouldn’t see her cry. She was done crying. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore, I want you out. Out of this room, out of this house, out of my life!”_

_“You want me gone?” Oliver asked, laughing without a trace of humor, his eyes black with emotion as he stooped down, snatching his keys and wallet before grabbing his jacket. “Fine. I’m gone.”_

A giant gush of air whipped around the corner, nearly knocking her down.

Felicity braced herself, gritting her teeth against the icy cold slicing through her t-shirt.

With a final second of hesitation, she pushed the memories down and walked up to the front door. Felicity knelt down, sliding her finger behind the cracked jamb.

The key was still there.

Felicity unlocked the door slowly and stepped in, shutting it behind her.

Like she was in a vacuum, it was suddenly deathly silent.

The house was dusty and dark, almost dank. He hadn’t been up there, just like she hadn’t been. The only time she came was on this anniversary, when she waited.

She always waited for him.

But he never came.

Would he come this time?

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she stood in the entryway, staring at the stairs, memories flooding her - they’d made love on the stairs more times than she could count, because they never made it upstairs; she’d tried cooking for him more than he probably would’ve liked and she’d always run out of the kitchen in pajama bottoms, carrying the pan holding her burnt omelet, a fork at the ready for him to taste; they always hugged, right there, when it was time to leave, to return back to reality, almost like they were saying goodbye to the house itself; their arguments got louder at the base of the stairs, always, because one of them inevitably went up them while the other stayed on the landing, raising their voice louder to be heard - when she heard a car.

Panic seized her, adrenaline flooding her limbs as Felicity inhaled too quickly. She coughed as the dust hit her already dry throat, coating her mouth, and the hacks rattled her to the bone before she grew silent.

She strained her ears.

A car, and it was pulling up into the drive, the one next to the house.

Felicity was frozen in place, her hand covering her mouth, wide eyes on the window bank overlooking the field. The driveway was right under that window. How many times has she looked out when he got back from an errand or when he met her up there? How many times had she looked out those windows, waiting to see the top of his head, to know it was him coming home.

The car door opened and she held her breath.

It was him.

“Oh god,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision. She heard him shut the driver door, moving a few paces over to open the rear door. He disappeared for a second, reaching in to get something before he reappeared… and then he was making his way around the house.

Felicity trembled as she slowly spun, her feet kicking up the dust littering the floor, watching him in her mind’s eye as he made his way to the front of the house. As he got closer to the front door, she heard his voice - her eyes slipped shut for just a second, just a quick second, _reveling_ … He was on the phone. She couldn’t hear his words, but the low rumble of his voice, she remembered that very well.

And she _missed_ it, god, she missed it.

“I’m here, so I’ll…” His words were barely audible before she caught him saying, “Okay, yeah. Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

Felicity shuddered, a bubble filling her chest.

It’d been so long.

He hung up.

The wooden porch groaned, and he paused, just like she had. Felicity stared at him through the stained glass - the colored, irregular glass distorted his figure, making him appear jagged and uneven where he hesitated on the stairs. She could see he was wearing a heavy coat, large boards tucked under his arm.

Just seeing him like that, as he was, it was enough, and she sighed.

“Oliver,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Like her voice broke through whatever he was thinking, he was suddenly moving, the soft jingle of his keys the only thing besides his heavy footsteps sounding. He still had his key on his keyring, and the thought made her smile - laugh, even - reminding her how often she’d lost hers before he’d finally said they’d just hide hers, since she’d always beat him up there on Friday nights.

How many nights had he found her sitting on the front porch, waiting for him? How many times had he paused at the bottom, cocking his head with that stupid smile on his face, his eyes taking in her usually very lacking clothes, and she’d just sit there, waiting for him to say it…

_“I didn’t know it was my birthday.”_

_Felicity rolled her eyes, unable to stop the smile those words always brought to her lips. “Just open the door, Oliver.”_

He unlocked the door.

She unwittingly took a few steps back, wrapping her arms around her middle as he let it swing open. Felicity ran into the banister at the base of the stairs, biting her lip to keep herself quiet as he stepped in, bundled in a thick winter jacket, a scarf wrapped around his neck, the door falling shut behind him.

They didn’t move.

He was older, more lines around his eyes, around  his mouth - they weren’t laugh lines. His face was hard and blank as he looked around, his eyes sliding right past her without an ounce of recognition.

That was the only reason she didn’t move to him, didn’t say anything.

He looked past her as if she wasn’t even there.

And it hurt just as much as it had the last time she’d seen him, the tiny glimpse she’d been afforded.

Pain tore through her as a flood of tears blurred him, turning him into a faceless black hole.

He took a shaky breath, setting down the boards he’d brought in before yanking his scarf off, unzipping his coat.

He was silent, not saying a word, and she followed suit, staying right where she was, not saying a thing.

Felicity blinked, a hot tear slipping down her cheek as her vision cleared enough for her to see him pulling his jacket off. He turned to the stand they had next to the door, the one she’d almost broken shoving into her Mini when they’d bought it. He paused, staring at it, like he didn’t want to touch it. He finally clenched his jaw and hung the jacket up.

His shoulders were bigger, more broad. His hair was shorn close to the scalp, making him look severe as he turned back to face her.

He still didn’t say anything.

“Oliver,” she said, his name coming out in a forced choke, but he didn’t respond.

He closed his eyes, pain twisting his face.

He turned away from her, stepping into the living room.

A sob built in her chest, tearing its way up her throat as she watched him go.

She didn’t move, shifting slightly, her shoulder sliding along the edge of the banister until she could push her face against the wood.

Felicity took in a quick breath, the oxygen burning its way down into her lungs, more tears slipping down her cheeks.

They were so hot and she was so cold.

A heavy swoop sounded from the living room as Oliver yanked the drop cloths off the furniture. Felicity rested her forehead against the cool wood, listening as he made his way through the space, small clouds of dust floating into the entryway. She heard him rolling them up, dropping them in the corner; heard the rasp of his fingers as he touched the couch; the soft clink of a picture frame being picked up… and then he was moving on, into the kitchen… into the dining room… all the way through the house, like he was re-familiarizing himself with it.

Felicity didn’t move.

She just listened to him as he silently made his way through the house.

She didn’t move when he reappeared behind her.

He didn’t touch her.

He stepped around her and went upstairs, his back stiff, his arms heavy at his side, his movements robotic, almost like he was on autopilot.

Felicity stayed right where she was, holding herself, fighting back more tears as she listened to him go upstairs, to his heavy tread as he made his way down the hall.

It’d been one of her favorite things about the house, how old it was, how you could hear every little thing - the way it creaked and settled at night, how it groaned during a bad storm, when Oliver got out of the shower, when she slipped on her fluffy socks at the top of the stairs… the house had a life of its own, something neither of them had ever experienced before; it was a life that added to theirs, a life that only made theirs better.

But now it was just an echo, a sad, sad echo.

Felicity opened her eyes when she heard the telltale whine from their office door opening.

Her eyes found the boards he’d brought in.

Felicity inhaled sharply, and this time she couldn’t stop the tears; she couldn’t stop the pain slicing her open from the inside as she stared at the bright red ‘For Sale’ letters sprawled across the top of the sign on top, highlighting the folded up boxes stacked underneath it.

He was selling it.

He was selling their house.

The sob she’d been fighting tumbled out of her and she covered her mouth, bowing her head as more sobs wracked her frame. Her shoulders shook with the force of them, her muffled cries filling the empty space around her, tears slipping over her fingers. She leaned against the banister, gripping it tightly - it was the only thing that was keeping her standing.

He was selling it.

_No…_

The sound of something crashing to the floor upstairs broke through her sobs and she froze, eyes flying up to where he’d disappeared.

She was moving before she knew what she was doing. Felicity gripped the sturdy wood, keeping her hand on the railing as she made her way up.

She hadn’t been upstairs, not since the last time they’d both been there, together. She always stayed downstairs, _always_ , never venturing out of the only place that didn’t remind her of everything they’d had, everything they could’ve had.

But that was where he was.

And she wasn’t going to let him do it alone.

Their pictures were still up on the walls of the upstairs hallway, interspersed with family pictures. The Queen Christmas party where Thea was making bunny ears behind Felicity; more than a few from when they’d visited her mother in Las Vegas, including a picture with a Santa Elvis who’d let his hand drift a little too far down Oliver’s backside, much to his chagrin.

There were pictures of them around the house, in their old apartment, on their wedding day, at the beach, at his graduation, in front of her new company storefront…

They felt like chalky glimpses into a life that had once been; they were so full, their entire life posted around the house, snapshots of moments that she never wanted to forget… but at the same time, they were so empty, because it was all gone.

He was still in their office.

He was dialing the phone.

Felicity gripped the doorjamb as she looked into the office.

Her papers were still scattered everywhere, just as she’d left them. Nothing had changed.

She only had eyes for him.

He stood at the window overlooking the small lake - the window was dusty and dirty from years of disuse. He was hunched over the small desk where they kept an old pea-soup green rotary phone, something he’d found at a garage sale, one she’d hated until he got it working.

She could hear the other side ringing, and then the voicemail picked up.

Felicity’s breath hitched when she heard who it was.

“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking, and the sound of his voice sent a rain of sharp shivers cascading down her spine.

It’d been so long.

She gripped the doorjamb tighter, staring at him. His shoulders were low where he was stooped over, his finger absently drawing in the dust littered across the table.

“God,” he breathed, his voice harsh and uncoordinated, like he was having a hard time stringing the words together. “You have no idea how amazing it is to hear your voice. I… it’s been so long, since I’ve been here, and I didn’t… I couldn’t…

“I miss you…

“God, I miss you so much, I can’t even breathe and I…”

A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on her shirt.

He took a shaky breath and she finally noticed he was staring at something on the desk.

A picture frame.

“Felicity…”

He hung up the phone abruptly, his head dropping, shaking with a silent sob.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered, already stepping into the office, her hand reaching out to comfort him, but he was moving, picking the picture up and leaving through the side door, the door that led to their bedroom. She followed him, only pausing when she saw the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet on the floor, the contents spilled everywhere.

The deed to the house was first and foremost but tucked underneath it was their wedding certificate.

Her heart broke, more tears blurring her vision, before she stepped over, and walked into their bedroom.

The instant she stepped over the threshold, she couldn’t _breathe_.

This was why she never came up here. This space, this perfect space that had been theirs - nothing had changed, not a single thing. The bed was still unmade from the last time they’d slept in it, his shoes were still sitting at the foot of the bed, her tank top in a rumpled pile on her side; the book she’d been reading was still on her nightstand, her glasses case right next to it; he still had a glass of water on his side.

The water had long ago evaporated, leaving a dusty imprint, a cobweb inside it.

Nothing had changed.

 _Nothing_.

He was at her dresser, staring at something taped to the mirror.

“Oliver?” she asked.

She was shaking, she was shaking so badly.

She was almost there, she was almost touching him when he cracked, falling apart right before her eyes.

He leaned forward, his forehead falling against the taped paper, a heart-wrenching sob slipping past his lips.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered desperately. “Oliver… please.”

His sobs tore through her as he slipped down to the ground, the picture frame cradled to his chest. He pushed himself against the wall, curling in on himself as he cried - cried for her, for them. The despair radiating off him sliced into her, his face twisted in such agony Felicity felt like she was being ripped to pieces as he gripped the frame until his fingers were white, his other hand covering his face.

Her obituary was taped to the mirror, a thin column cut out of the local newspaper.

Her picture was at the top, one of her laughing - she remembered that picture, she remembered the day it had been taken; it was from their engagement photos, one of the few the photographer had caught of her on her own. Oliver had been out of frame and she’d just thrown a bundle of leaves in his face, making him sputter…

It talked about her life, her achievements, her career and the people she’d known… and those she’d left behind - her mother and her husband, Oliver.

It talked about the car accident, the drunk driver who’d hit her the day after her final argument with Oliver.

She’d died on the side of the road, four years ago that day, whispering his name.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered, over and over, gasping for air between sobs as he tried to fend them off, for a second’s reprieve, for a moment to breathe, but they were too powerful, and the pained sounds he made ripped her apart as he said, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” Felicity whispered, crouching next to him, reaching for him. “Shh.”

He couldn’t feel her. She knew this, just as much as she knew she wouldn’t be able to feel him, but that didn’t stop her from cupping his face, from remembering with a vivid alacrity how he’d felt under her fingers, how his rough stubble had scratched her palm, how he leaned into her touch when she scraped her nails along his jawline, how his eyes would close when she whispered his name, pulling his face to hers for a kiss…

“Felicity,” Oliver sobbed, shoving his palm against his forehead as he looked down at the frame.

It was a picture of both of them, a failed selfie. He was behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, and just as she’d clicked the button, he’d started tickling her, lifting her up on her feet. It captured the moment perfectly, with her in mid-laugh, his grinning face tucked into her neck.

They’d been so happy. It hadn’t been easy, their road fraught with more than a few obstacles, but they’d always made it.

Always.

Oliver’s fingers trembled as he traced them over her face, following the lines of her smile.

One of his tears landed on the dusty frame, sliding down, leaving a wet trail through the dirt.

“I miss you so much, Felicity, I can’t…”

“Oh, Oliver,” Felicity breathed as he choked out another sob.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh…”

This time when Felicity touched him, she thought she felt _something_. It was a spark, a tiny spark, and the first warmth she’d felt in _years_ spread through her, making her gasp - it was so warm, so, so warm; she’d forgotten how warm she’d been when she’d been alive - and she moved her hand, cupping his face even more.

As if he could feel it too, Oliver’s sobs slowly subsided.

He took a stilted breath… and then he leaned closer to her.

Felicity leaned into him, hovering over him, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer to rest his face against her chest.

He couldn’t know she was there, he couldn’t possibly, but… but somehow there was _something_.

Oliver’s eyes slipped shut as he sagged against the wall, letting out a deep breath as if it were his last.

For a split second, a quick, tiny second, they were both there, they were together again.

“I love you so much, Oliver,” Felicity whispered, pushing her face to the top of his head.

She couldn’t smell him anymore, she couldn’t feel him… all she felt was the strange warmth, like his presence was slowly sinking into her.

They both sighed.

He felt it too.

“Felicity…”

She had no idea how much time passed, how long he sat there, how long the warmth lasted before it slowly started to fade.

“No,” she gasped, shaking her head… but it was slipping away.

Oliver shifted, feeling it too, his body tensing, like he was preparing for it.

“I’m waiting for you, Oliver,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’m waiting… I’ll be here. Always.”

“I love you,” he breathed. “I miss you so much.”

“I’m here. I’m always here…”

“Felicity…”

As she faded away along with the feeling, her body slowly disappearing, Felicity cupped his face and pressed her lips to his.

“I love you…”

*

As the strange warmth slowly dissipated, Oliver felt like he could actually _breathe_ again.

For the first time in four years, for the first time since he’d gotten the call, the call that had for all intents and purposes ended his life as abruptly as hers had ended, Oliver felt peace.

It was  warmth he hadn’t felt since she’d been alive, and a light deep inside him sparked back to life, slowly eradicating the darkness he’d been living in for such a long time.

He’d see her again

She was waiting for him.

For the first time in years, Oliver smiled.

“Felicity…”

She was there. He didn’t know how he knew it, or if it was even possible… but it was undeniable. His Felicity was there.

Oliver closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth for just a second longer before he whispered, “Thank you.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The message in this song doesn’t really fit with Olicity, damn it, so I made it fit. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it, reviews literally feed my soul and muse - thank you for reading!


	23. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Oliver and Felicity meet over the catharsis that is Adele, vodka and cookie dough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - ladyverba: I have a prompt! A punishment prompt of sorts because of how you wrecked the fandom with the "Hello" fic, but like in the most non-threatening way hahah. Okay, so: I challenge you to write an AU fic about F or O buying just Adele's new album plus a bottle of vodka and they meet the other person on the supermarket's aisle. Rest is up to you!

Cookie dough or mint-chocolate chip.

Mint-chocolate chip was her go-to - she was pretty sure she still had a carton in the freezer upstairs - but it was what she ate when she needed to think about something, or when she needed to relax, or when she was catching up on her saved shows, or when she wanted to celebrate something.

She was so not in a celebratory mood.

No, she was in a brooding mood.

Brooding moods were an entirely different animal.

“Cookie dough,” Felicity said under her breath, nodding at the solid plan. It was very solid. Ice cream was usually a great foundation for a solid plan, but it didn’t get to the solid level all by itself. No, what she needed was wine.

So much wine.

All the wine.

Right, booze aisle next.

Felicity rounded the corner of the next aisle, tugging the sleeves of her sweatshirt down at the inherent chill that existed in the aisle, her eyes already on her destination, but she wasn’t alone. It seemed someone else needed some solid planning that night too.

The guy stared at the ice cream selection, barely blinking, his eyes slowly ticking over the multiple ice creams the little shop underneath her apartment had to offer. There wasn’t much, but there was enough, more than enough to satisfy any casual or serial ice cream eater… except this guy was making it look like his life depended on choosing the very right ice cream, and he wasn’t leaving until he’d weighed the pros and cons of every single one.

Felicity slowed as she got nearer, taking him in.

He was a little wrecked. 

She couldn’t see his face in the hooded sweatshirt he wore, but she didn’t need to, she could see it in the lines of his body and how he was slouched over, like one little breeze would send him face-first into the glass case he was staring into.

Despite the rumpled state of his clothes, they weren’t crappy, by any means - nothing like the ratty sweats she wore and the old MIT sweatshirt that used to belong to… He Who Shall Not Be Named.

No, his clothes were expensive.

It was kind of weird that expensive clothes wrinkled differently, but there it was.

He took a deep breath, letting it out in a pathetic sigh, shuffling.

He switched the items from his right hand to his left, and she saw what he was carrying.

A shockingly large bottle of vodka - the cheapest he could find apparently, he really wanted to hate himself in the morning - and…

Felicity’s eyebrows shot up.

He clutched the latest Adele album between his fingers, the one she herself had been listening to on repeat since it dropped the Friday before, interspersed with songs from ‘21’ because relevant.

So what exactly was this guy doing in a tiny grocery store at 8 p.m. on a Friday night, buying vodka, Adele and ice cream?

Probably the same thing she was.

Felicity sighed softly, nodding, because of course the universe was crappy enough to do this to two mostly-good people - she didn’t know him, but she was willing to bet he was mostly good - before she moved towards him.

She caught sight of herself in one of the glass cases as she passed.

That was one great thing about kindred souls - neither of them gave two craps about what they looked like.

She looked like she hadn’t showered in three days.

When was the last time she’d showered?

“You too, huh?” Felicity asked, sidling up next to him. The guy jumped, his head flying to look at her but she only had eyes for the ice cream. She nodded when she found her target - Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough - and opened the door, reaching for it.

“What?” the guy asked.

Felicity glanced up, a smile on her lips - the poor guy - and then she froze when she saw who it was.

Her jaw dropped.

“Oliver Queen,” she said, blinking.

He blinked back, confusion mixing with slowly growing exasperation marring his face.

So, the term ‘wrecked’ didn’t exactly cover it. He looked like someone had dragged him to hell and back, taking a quick detour to chop his face up and dip the pieces in abject misery before putting it back together.

He looked horrible.

The freezer door was still open, and Felicity shivered, letting it close with a quiet thud before she cocked her head.

“You don’t know who I am,” she said, and he just furrowed his brow, looking like a lost and kicked puppy. “We went to school together. Or, well, we existed in the same building for one year, but everyone knew who Oliver Queen was. I totally understand if you don’t know who I am because we were, you know…” She used her hands to emphasize the distance. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” was all he said.

He turned back to the ice cream.

That was less than.. enthusiastic.

Felicity followed his gaze before looking back at him.

She never thought she’d run into this guy again, not in a million years. To say they ran in different circles was like saying concrete was hard when you fell on it. He’d been the stereotypical jock with the gorgeous girlfriend and amazing life, and the looks to go with it all - and the attitude. It took one time being in the same space as him for her realize that he was so not a guy she needed to spend her time around, and that’s all she’d needed.

She was pretty sure she was one of the few to escape the inevitable Oliver Queen Charm. If you had eyes, you probably had a crush on him, but to her, he was just one of those guys, those guys who were loud and brash, did almost anything they wanted and got away with it, and while she did see him stop to help someone when they tripped in the hallway once, he never showed anything but That Guy.

So, to her, that’s who he was.

That Guy.

But he didn’t look like That Guy anymore. In fact, it looked like life hadn’t been too gentle with him.

Unless he’d done something to piss off the Fates, which kind of made sense.

“Hard day?” Felicity asked. Oliver looked over and she nodded to his goods. “That’s quite an arsenal.”

“Oh,” Oliver said on a sigh, looking down at what he held. He dipped his head slightly and she wasn’t quite sure, but she thought he might be blushing. He nodded. “Yeah. Hard day.”

“Adele’s good for that,” Felicity said, unable to help herself. He was definitely blushing now and she shook her head. “If anyone has the right to be embarrassed, it’s this guy. I bought it the second it went live on Friday. And I’m actually proud of that, so no shame here”

“Yeah?” he asked, and she knew he wasn’t asking because he was interested, but because he was being polite, in that weird way where he was obviously craving company and human contact, but still incredibly distracted.

He very obviously had distractions he needed to drown in massive amounts of crappy vodka.

“I, uh,” he said, staring at the ice cream. “I kept hearing that ‘Hello’ song on the radio and it was just…”

“Speaking to you? Yeah, Adele has that power. She makes you miss that random person you made eye contact with seven years ago on the bus.”

Oliver made a noise that she was pretty sure was a chuckle.

“I thought ice cream would make me a little less pathetic,” he said, now cracking a smile and Felicity took that as encouragement, nodding.

“Yes, ice cream is good for that, very good, although it depends on what kind you get. I mean, if you just get something bamboozled with chocolate, that takes you right back to the pathetic level.”

This time he did chuckle and Felicity wanted to give herself a high five.

And then she wanted to ask herself what she was doing, but she stopped herself, because she didn’t care, because for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t thinking about He Who Shall Not Be Named… well, she hadn’t been until she’d just realized she hadn’t been thinking about him.

His face suddenly rose in her mind, making her chest shrink to the size of a coffee bean.

Felicity didn’t realize a long moment had passed or that Oliver was now the one staring at her until he spoke.

“Hard day for you too?” he asked.

She looked at him, frowning. “What?”

“Ice cream.”

“Oh,” Felicity said, looking down at her ice cream baby before back at him with a slightly self-deprecating smile. “Yes. You could say that. More like a hard week. Or month. Definitely a hard month.”

“Bad breakup?”

“Yes,” Felicity said, and now it was her turn to study the ice cream.

She absently marveled at the fact that she was actually wanting to talk about it. She’d gone radio silent for two weeks after the ultimatum she’d given He Who Shall Not Be Named, after he’d stonewalled her, thinking she’d just give in… instead, she’d broken up with him and moved out the next day. Not even her best friend Char could get her to talk about it without wanting to fall apart, which she avoided like the plague because she really didn’t want to fall apart any more than she already had.

He Who Shall Not Be Named didn’t deserve the tears.

“It was… me, who did the breaking up,” Felicity said, feeling both lighter and heavier as she spoke. The familiar stir of emotions swirled in her chest, but she kept them down, although her voice still sounded a little high. “And I… I wasn’t ready to be broken up from him, but it was breaking up or… or getting more caught up in the bad cycle of… badness, that he was in.”

Oliver cocked his head. “Drugs?”

Felicity made a face. Drugs almost sounded easier than the power trip. “Illegal hacking.”

He fell silent and she looked over to find him staring at her, obviously not appreciating the gravity.

“We - and by ‘we’ I mean me, him and his roommate - sort of were like… hacktivisits, and we hacked into places and… deleted things, or changed stuff, or got information that we posted online, and I’m realizing how ridiculous it sounds standing in the freezer aisle trying to explain it to a stranger.”

Oliver chuckled dryly. “It sounds dangerous.”

“It was,” Felicity said, nodding. “And he didn’t get that. He… we did something that went too far, and I said we should stop, but he didn’t want to.” Felicity smiled - it was tight and pained. She indicated the ice cream making her arm cold. “So, cookie dough.”

“Cookie dough helps?” Oliver asked.

“A lot,” Felicity said. “It’s my brooding ice cream. Usually I’m all for the mint-chocolate chip but I don’t want to taint it more than I already have.”

Oliver cracked a smile, turning back to the ice cream.

“So,” he said, nodding to the array before them. “What do you suggest for a moron who doesn’t know how to leave the train wreck he’s left behind him.”

Felicity pinched her lips. “I’m gonna need a little more information than that.”

“Hm,” Oliver said, nodding, his eyes pausing on Rocky Road.

“I’m still in love with my ex-girlfriend, and I keep making her life a mess even though she’s moved on, even though I more than destroyed our relationship.” He narrowed his eyes, looking like he was trying to stop, but the words just kept flowing. “I cheated on her, a lot, and more… specifically, and importantly, with her sister. And then I trashed her house one night - more than one night - and I almost got her father killed in a car accident because he was chasing me when I’d… drank too much one night. He’s a cop.”

Felicity blinked.

Whoa.

“Uh,” she said, taking a deep breath, her mind reeling.

Okay, so he was more than a little wrecked. She stared into the ice cream case, seeing them but not seeing them, trying to wrap her mind around what he’d just said. How could someone with so much at his fingertips royally screw things up so well? Alright, it made sense, but still.

He’d been through a lot, at his own doing, but still a lot. He sounded like he didn’t have anyone he could turn to, and he desperately wanted someone to turn to, just to talk to him. The fact that he was in a crappy shop buried under even crappier apartments on the edge of the Glades was a pretty good indication he was going to get in his car, put on Adele and drink himself into oblivion.

Alone.

Well, not on her dang watch.

And it sort of helped that he was the first person she actually wanted to talk to. She already felt better. Talking about things always made them better, like cleaning out an infected wound, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

Until now.

Felicity’s mind was jumping ahead fifteen paces.

Was she really thinking of actually asking him upstairs to wallow in their sorrows together? Wasn’t this how murder stories started? What if he thought it was something else, something more?

She glanced at him out the corner of her eye.

He was miserable, and he barely noticed she was taking her time answering again.

“I think,” Felicity finally said, turning to face him. “Cookie dough is what you need.”

Oliver slowly looked at her.

Oh, this guy wasn’t going to do anything but cry on her couch, she was sure of it.

He glanced at the ice cream carton she held.

“I thought that was for brooding.”

“For me,” Felicity said. “But for you, this is the perfect eat-my-emotions ice cream.”

Oliver stared at her, not really getting it… and then she saw when the realization hit him.

And then he frowned.

“Are you…?”

“Asking if you want to share the vodka and I’ll share the ice cream?” Felicity asked. “Strictly as two people who really need to get fat and drunk because our love lives are total wrecks right now?”

He huffed out a laugh and she smiled.

“I live right upstairs. Literally. And… I think we like talking to each other, if I’m reading this correctly, and it helps? And I feel better doing this because I do kind of know you… although I’m now realizing you don’t really know me.” She pushed her hand out. “I’m Felicity.”

Oliver took it.

His hands were clammy and dry.

Poor guy.

“Felicity,” he repeated and she smiled.

“See, better!” she said. “And trust me, when you see how messy my apartment is, you’ll know that the last thing I’m looking for is pity sex.”

Sex. Did she just say sex?

Judging by the amused smile on his lips, she definitely had.

“Not that that’s what you were thinking, but maybe it was, but it wasn’t what I’m saying, or meaning to say, or insinuating. This is so platonic it’s a new level of pathetic.”

Oliver didn’t answer for a moment, almost long enough for her to say, ‘I guess that was kind of a horrible suggestion,’ but then he nodded.

“That’d be nice,” he said, and the smile on his face was full of relief.

The same relief she felt.

Felicity returned it with a nod and said, “Okay then.”

*

They spent the night upstairs listening to Adele and talking.

They went through ‘25’ three times before switching to ’21’ and then bouncing between the two of them depending on the topic they touched on.

They put the ice cream away and started with the vodka, because the second they got upstairs the awkwardness of what Felicity had suggested really settled in, and the alcohol helped blur the awkwardness until it was completely out of the picture.

They got drunk, and then they ate the ice cream out of the container with plastic spoons because she didn’t have clean dishes.

*

Felicity. “Guys suck. It’s amazing how much you guys suck, like… I love him, because he’s my… he’s the guy, he was supposed to be the one, he was perfect in every way, but the second he started talking about actually stealing money and not even feeling bad about it, it’s like he changed. And he didn’t get it! He didn’t get why I didn’t like it, why I didn’t ‘care,’ or why I was breaking up with him! He didn’t get it! Because he’s a stupid guy!”

Oliver. “We suck so much. So bad. Such badness.”

Felicity. “So bad! I mean, look at you. Oliver, look at you, are you looking at you? Look at you.”

Oliver. “I’m looking, I’m looking so much. I’ve been looking. I mean… I love her, like so much, but I keep… fucking it up, sabotaging it, making it worse. God, I’m the worst, we’re the worst. Never fall in love with a guy like me, okay, Felicity? Never. Promise me. Say, ‘I promise.’ I don’t want you with a guy like me.”

Felicity. “No, no, don’t say that, you’re wonderful. You’re great. You’re gonna find someone and be happy and in love and wear flowers every day. We’re the worst. Because we’re… no, no you’re right, guys are the worst.”

*

Oliver. “A whole month. You broke up a whole month ago.”

Felicity. “Yeah. It’s been a hard month, Oliver.”

Oliver. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you wallowing like this, eating ice cream and crying and listening to… to this amazing song, that is so… that is making me cry. No, I’m not crying.”

Felicity. “You’re crying a little.”

Oliver. “So are you.”

Felicity. “Yeah. Because I miss him.”

Oliver. “I miss her.”

*

Felicity. “This ice cream is so good.”

Oliver. “So good.”

*

Both. “Hello… it’s me. I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet. To go over… everything. They say that time’s supposed to heal ya, but I ain’t done much healing…”

Felicity. “See, that’s why, Oliver, that’s why!”

Oliver. “Shh.”

Both. “Hello, can you hear me?”

*

Oliver. “River Lea is my song.”

Felicity. “It’s so your song. It’s my song.”

Oliver. “It really is.”

*

It was almost three in the morning when they fell asleep on her couch.

*

“So…” Felicity held the door open for him, unable to keep the smile off her lips. “That was unorthodox.”

Oliver laughed, nodding. “That is one way to describe it. But it was also…” He took a deep breath, staring at her like he couldn’t quite understand what exactly had happened, but knowing it had, and definitely not regretting it. “Cathartic.”

“It was,” Felicity agreed with a grin. “Weirdly cathartic.”

He returned her grin.

“I feel better,” she said.

“Me too.”

“Well good, I think we did good then.” Felicity held out her hand. “It was nice to see you, Oliver Queen.”

“And it was nice to meet you, Felicity Smoak,” Oliver replied, gripping her hand lightly with a smile. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll see you around.”

Seven years later, they got married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blatantly stole that line about Adele making you miss that person you made eye contact with seven years ago from a meme I saw a few weeks ago. It was too hilarious and accurate to not use.
> 
> I hope this made up for ‘Hello’! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	24. I'll Protect You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity meets someone during a really bad storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Anonymous - 036: “A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightening/thunder so I’ll protect you.”

Felicity knocked on the door tentatively, waiting for an answer. The flowers in her other hand rustled softly where they brushed against the hard metal as she peeked into the window, trying to see if it was Shauna’s room.

No Shauna.

In fact the room looked pretty empty, except that the bed was all messed up like  _someone_  was in there.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, Felicity pulled away from the little window and looked down the green-bathed hallway.

The storm was _bad_  - and not just bad like, ‘oh, there’s some thunder and lightning, it’s pretty nasty, you might want to wait a few minutes before going out.’ No, it was bad like, ‘The entire freaking sky is vomiting on the world, seek shelter.’

She’d been wandering the halls, trying to find a nurse to tell her what room Shauna was in when the lights had gone out. For those seven terrifying seconds when everything had fallen pitch black - like  _pitch black_ , like there was no seeing  _anything_  - and a collective round of terror-filled shouts had sounded from patients and guests alike… well, those were seven seconds where she almost found out what it was like to pee your pants from fear.

Alright, she hadn’t actually been about to do that, but her bladder had  _seized_. It was that kind of fear.

The second the backup generators had switched on, the emergency lights finally kicking into gear, turning everything a really sickly yellow/green that reminded her of pea soup, the sky had opened up with a wicked crack of thunder that literally shook the walls.

She might have screamed a little when that happened.

The halls were a mess, filled with people running back and forth, trying to calm patients down, trying to orderly transfer those who needed more care to the ICU where a stronger generator was hooked up, basically trying to keep everything running as smooth as possible while she’d wandered around, looking for her friend.

Felicity looked back into the room.

The sky looked like it was closer to midnight than four in the afternoon and rain pounded against the side of the building, lightning making the hallways look like a really terrifying acid trip every few seconds, all followed by heart-stopping booms of thunder, as if the sky was _right there_ and the building was going down.

“Cheerful thoughts,” Felicity whispered.

There wasn’t a name on the door, which was kind of weird, but what exactly did she know about hospitals? Maybe Shauna didn’t qualify for a door name. She had just gotten hit by a car and a hip fracture. Maybe you had to lose a leg to qualify for the name plate. 

“Cheerful thoughts,” Felicity repeated, glancing around again. 

Every time she’d tried to stop someone they’d just told her to go wait at the nurses’ station, which had been a complete bust the two times she’d tried it. And it wasn’t like she could just leave her friend there, she was her ride home. Maybe Shauna could _wheel_ herself home. Surely she was in a wheelchair somewhere. 

Looking back in the room, which looked used and lived-in - it was just missing a person - she squared her shoulders and said, “Screw it,” as she opened the door.

Felicity poked her head in, flinching when lightning shot through the clouds again, her eyes scanning the room.

She thought she heard a tiny whimper.

“Hello?” she asked quietly. Nothing. She stepped into the room, bringing her flowers with her, looking around. “Shauna?”

A harsh inhale of breath had her heart jumping up in her throat because that was definitely _not_ Shauna. 

Her eyes flew to the corner farthest from the window where a dark shadow sat huddled, looking both way too tiny and way too big at the same time, and her heart stopped at the sight.

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur. 

Felicity remembered freezing, realizing that the giant thing in the corner was a hulk of a man who was obviously terrified of the storm outside, realizing that she should go get help, find someone to help him because he was whimpering and trying to curl himself into a tiny little ball, trying to escape the terror right outside his gigantic windows - which was really just ridiculous, why didn’t they at least have  _curtains_  - and realizing that she should definitely not approach him in case she made it worse.

She did the exact opposite of that.

Felicity had no idea what instinct had her dropping down to his level, had her setting her purse and flowers to the side, making herself as unthreatening as possible.

He was trembling in the corner, his head buried in his arms, his muscles bunched to the point it looked like he’d  _snap_  if anything else happened. His breathing was way too rapid, his fingers clenching and unclenching, as if he was fighting his body’s inherent need to squeeze until the terror went away.

Felicity’s heart hurt at the sight, wanting to smooth away the terrified lines in his body, show him that the storm couldn’t get him, not while they were inside.

That she wouldn’t _let_ it.

She slowly inched towards him.

This was dumb, she knew it was dumb - he could hurt her, or he could hurt himself if she said or did something wrong, but at the same time… she felt a tug, deep inside her, pulling her to him.

She wanted to make sure he was okay.

She wanted to make him feel  _safe_.

She needed to.

She didn’t know this man, she didn’t anything about him, what he was capable of, what he’d been through, what he could do to her…

But he was alone, that was all that mattered, and something inside her had her moving until she was a foot away from him.

Felicity paused.

“Hey,” she whispered in a soft voice, keeping her tone soothing, reaching towards him slowly. 

Her hand hovered right before she touched him. 

He barely glanced up and she realized with a little start that he’d been aware of her the entire time. His eyes found hers, and she was struck with how much he reminded her of a wild animal, caged and unhinged, looking like he would do anything to escape the feeling taking over him.

That thought alone should’ve had her backtracking, retreating, _running_ , because the feral look in his eye was anything but sane.

She still didn’t move.

Felicity would spend the next several years wondering what it was that told her to stay right where she was, how different her life would’ve been had she moved, had she left him, how different he would be, how different everything would’ve been if she’d done something _different._

But she didn’t. 

She stayed right there, with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He didn’t respond.

Neither of them moved for a long moment, just staring at each other, Felicity unsure if she should move closer, when another bolt of lightning shot across the window. It lit up the room right before a boom of thunder cracked through the sky, so intense Felicity swore she heard the windows rattling.

The man instantly jumped, shoving himself back - away from her, away from the windows, away from everything - but there wasn’t enough space, and Felicity moved without a second thought.

The strangest urge to _protect_ swept over her and she moved towards him, barely giving herself a chance to think about her own safety as she reached out and touched him. Her fingers grazed over his arm for a split second, sliding across his sweat-covered skin, his trembling muscles, his shaking vibrating into her.

He barely flinched, almost like he didn’t feel her.

Felicity slowly slid her hand up until it was covering his arm, letting him get used to her touch, and he still didn’t move save for his vicious shaking, his sharp jerks when the wind kicked up, spattering more rain against the window, or when another bolt shot through the room… but he never moved away from her.

She’d ask him why, for a long time, why _her_ , and the first few times he’d respond with a quiet, withdrawn, “I don’t know,” until one day he finally said, 

_“You made me feel like nothing could hurt me.”_

_“But you didn’t know me.”_

_“I didn’t have to.”_

She inched closer, ducking her head to see his face, wanting to do _more_ but not knowing what.

“Can I…?”

What? What could she do?

Another gush of wind sent a volley of water slamming into the windows, making him jump and she let out a series of soft, comforting noises, her other hand covering the crown of his head.

He was shaking so bad.

He was _terrified._

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay.” 

Just then, more thunder echoed, violently shaking the building and he jumped.

She didn’t realize he was moving until it was too late.

He grabbed her.

“Oh,” Felicity managed to get out but then he was already moving, so fast she barely saw him as he yanked her close, yanked her right into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, ducking behind her almost like she was a shield.

“Whoa, okay, okay…” Felicity whispered, her mind reeling to catch up, but he didn’t give her a second to adjust. He curled up further in the corner, cradling her against his chest just as much as he hid in her embrace, digging his face into her chest, holding her painfully close, his trembling so bad it shook both of them. “Whoa, hey… shh, I got you.”

It didn’t matter that she didn’t know him, that he didn’t know her, or that he could be dangerous or she could be doing more damage than actually helping him.

The only thing that mattered was making him feel _safe_ , and like they both knew she could give that to him, he sought her out like a moth to a flame.

Felicity wrapped her arms around his head, curling herself around him, whispering soft meaningless words, over and over, running her fingers through his hair, wrapping her arm around his shoulders in an effort to cocoon him, curling around him more when he whimpered at a particularly bright shot of lightning or a heavy shock of thunder.

As the storm raged on, beating against the side of the building, attempting to push the immovable brick into submission, Felicity held him, held this stranger, this giant of a man who sought shelter in her arms.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, how long she stayed there. 

She wasn’t sure when the lights came back on or when the storm finally abated, or when he eventually stopped trembling. 

She wasn’t sure when his eyes slipped shut or when finally let himself take a deep breath, letting his arms relax just enough to fall into a shallow sleep, or at what point she rested her head on his, holding him until his shoulders eventually relaxed, until _he_ relaxed, slumping against her. 

She wasn’t sure at what point he pressed his face into her chest again, inhaling deeply, taking in her scent, or when his fingers tightened around her, wordlessly communicating his gratitude, unable to put into words what exactly was happening. 

She didn’t know either \- she’d spend _years_ wondering herself \- and just held him tighter in response.

When he did fall asleep, she closed her eyes where she was cradled in his heavy embrace, feeling the oddest sense of serenity knowing she’d done this for him, that she’d protected him, and let herself slip… 

The next thing she knew, the door to his room was opening and before she could react to it, he was awake and twisting her in his arms, his body shielding hers now, protecting her from the intruder walking into their space.

“Whoa, hey, Mr. Queen, it’s okay, it’s okay,” a man said. Felicity didn’t have a second to comprehend the fact that the doctor had just called this man ‘Mr. Queen’ before he saw her, saw her wrapped up in his arms and caught sight of his face before gasping, “Oh my god, what are you doing?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Felicity said, shaking her head.

It was _okay_? What _was_ she doing, what were _they_ doing?

But it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, because she felt the man’s body shaking again, felt the tremors skating over his skin as his breathing became erratic all over again, his heart pounding against her chest.

“Whoa, hey, hey…” Felicity whispered, spinning back to face him, her hand flying to his cheek. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

He barely relaxed, his eyes on the doctor, but he did lean closer to her, although she wasn’t who was protecting who anymore. 

“Ma’am, are you…” the doctor started again, and it only made making the trembling worse. Before he could finish, Felicity whipped back to face him.

“Can you leave, for a moment, please?” she asked, her voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. 

The young man blanched, and he instantly stepped back before changing his mind, probably realizing he couldn’t just _leave_ a strange woman holding a man who was clearly about to lose it.

“Ma’am, I need you to…”

The man in her arms suddenly gripped her tighter, hauling her closer, his lips pulling back with a savage, “ _Don’t_.”

Both Felicity and the doctor froze. 

His voice was painfully garbled, like he hadn’t used it in years, and it sent a shiver falling down her spine, her stomach clenching uncomfortably. 

What had happened to him?

Had the doctor really just called him _Mr. Queen_?

That would mean…

This was Oliver Queen, the man who’d gone missing ten years ago, falling victim to a rogue wave that capsized his yacht.

Felicity blinked.

Oliver - if that really who this was, and if it was, _whoa_ \- didn’t give her a second to fully comprehend the fact that a presumed dead billionaire was currently huddled in the corner with her because the doctor took another step towards them, stepping on her flowers, his hand almost touching Felicity’s shoulder…

She wasn’t sure how it happened, but one second she was in his lap and the next he was up on his feet _with her in his arms_ and he was putting her behind him, crowding her into the corner like he thought the doctor was going to hurt her. It happened in the blink of an eye - okay, so he was _strong_ \- and the doctor froze again, his jaw hanging open, his eyes wide.

“I… uh, I don’t…” he stammered.

“Go,” Oliver snarled, the word coming out like broken glass on concrete and the doctor didn’t have to be told twice. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over her purse this time, and then he was gone.

Felicity stared at the door where it slowly slipped shut, realizing a second too late that her hands were gripping his t-shirt in tight fists, her body pressed against his.

And then he was turning back to her, his hands coming up to her face, his eyes searching her over frantically.

“Are… you…?”

“I’m okay,” Felicity whispered without thinking, nodding. His hands were so rough, so hard and callused. But they were warm, and comforting, and as they scraped over her skin, she found herself turning into his touch this time. “I’m okay.”

“I don’t…” he started, shaking his head. He blinked, just staring at her, a light sheen of tears slowly growing, like he couldn’t _believe_ what he was seeing, that he was there, that she was there… it broke her heart. 

He didn’t know her, at all, and yet he was looking at her like she’d just shown him the power of sunlight again. It took her breath away. 

Felicity reached up to cup his face this time, smiling as her own tears blurred her vision.

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling again. “You’re okay.”

“I…” he started, just staring at her. “Can I…”

“What?” she whispered.

He blinked, a myriad of emotions traveling over his face - his expression was so _open_ , and she found herself wanting to protect him from more than a storm raging outside. She could see the question in his eyes, but it was like he wasn’t sure how to voice it.

She nodded, not even having to hear it. “Yes.”

His shoulders fell, his face crinkling, making her heart break even more, and then he took a halting step towards her before fell into her arms. He pushed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply again, his chest expanded against hers as he wound his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.

A tiny, tiny sob sounded from deep in his chest as a single hot tear slipped from his eye, landing under the collar of her jacket.

Felicity wrapped her arms around him, cradling him as much as she could despite how tall he was and he stooped over more, like he needed to be closer to her. His breathing grew ragged, another tear falling, and she hugged him closer, a tear of her own falling down her cheek.

She didn’t know him, she didn’t know this man at all… but she _did._ She felt it in her bones, in the very foundations of who she was, that she _knew him_ , and that was enough. 

It was more than enough.

Oliver suddenly leaned down and he picked her up in his arms again, spinning until his back was pressed into the corner. He slid down, holding her in his lap, both of them readjusting until they were back to where they had been just a few minutes ago. 

He pressed his face into her chest, holding her close, and she ran her hand over his forehead, clasping him against her, her other hand grasping the side of his neck.

She held him, as tightly as she dared, like she was sheltering him… protecting him…

She was… and she would, for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea what I was doing as I was writing this (it almost had a little supernatural feel to it), and a possible explanation hit me at the end: he was stranded, alone, on an island for real this time, for years, and it reduced him to a very primordial state of mind. I tried some different techniques with this fic (and it wasn’t all that fluffy, was it? Oh me!). I’m just messing around, taking a break from Blood Hands. I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


	25. Broken Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Canon fic. 
> 
> Prompt - tangowitballs: Hey me again. So I've been at dentist a lot lately (and by a lot I mean like everyday in the past week) and while sitting in the dental chair today I thought olicity plus dental work. Like Oliver broke his tooth or needs a root canal or something and he goes to the foundry gets a pair of pliers and tries to remove said tooth and Felicitys like woah no we'll go to a dentist and he's like no. Turns out Oliver is scared shitless of dentists. I would love for you to write something please.

“Where is your brother?”

Thea looked up from where she was parked on Roy’s lap, a goofy smile on her face. Felicity couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it - it had been two years since Roy had left Starling City, since Thea had gone after him and returned a few days later. A lot had changed, but their love for each other was still ridiculously obvious.

And if Oliver wasn’t over here ripping Roy’s arms off for the very obvious public displays of affection happening at that moment, then he was obviously elsewhere.

But where?

She was supposed to meet him at Verdant - recently reopened and already filled to the brim with a whole new wave of kids who were way too young to be there - after work to celebrate Thea’s birthday, and she’d been running a little late. Alright, a lot late, but she was here, and her boyfriend was not.

“I saw him slamming a few shots earlier,” Roy said, adjusting Thea in his lap. “He seemed crankier than usual.”

“He’s got a broken tooth,” Felicity supplied, imitating with her hands as she said, “He got hit with a lead pipe last week and he refuses to go to the dentist.” She rolled her eyes. “The idiot.”

“Oooh,” Thea said with a giggle. So she was tipsy. She clapped her hands, shaking her head. “Ollie hates the dentist! He’s probably ducked out somewhere with a bottle of tequila. He never brushed his teeth when he was little and he had to get a root canal - he literally hid from mom for an entire weekend, it was hilarious.”

“Is that so?” Felicity asked over Roy’s chuckles.

“Check the basement, he sometimes goes down there during the day.”

“Thanks, Thea.” Felicity smiled at her and gave Roy a pointed look. “If you want your limbs intact, I suggest you run the second he sees you two like this.”

“Pffft,” Roy said, but Felicity caught him checking to make sure a chair was still next to them to deposit Thea in if her brother did appear.

Felicity made her way downstairs - the code still worked, although the door was a little more stuck than it used to be - and the first thing she heard was a loud crash.

“Oliver?”

Felicity hurried down the stairs, eyes flying around the old Arrow Cave. A wave of nostalgia hit her. It had been such a long time since she’d been down there. It was still in shambles, covered in years of dust and disuse, the ground still littered with debris from when Captain Lance & Co. had crashed in and torn it apart.

She nearly stepped on an arrowhead, but dodged around it, looking for Oliver.

Another crash sounded from the far corner and Felicity picked up her pace.

“Oliver! I’m pretty sure they covered answering when your name is called back in elementary school, and…” Her words trailed off when she found him leaning against a pillar - more specifically, when she saw what he was doing. “Oliver!”

Oliver pulled the pliers out of his mouth, turning to face her with the stupidest smile on his face. 

And then he waved at her. He freaking waved at her, like he wasn’t just trying to yank his own tooth out.

“What are you doing?” Felicity rushed over, yanking the pliers out of his hand. He hummed happily, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and Felicity’s knees almost gave out when he leaned nearly all his weight on her. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope,” Oliver replied, and she could smell the copious amounts of booze all over his breath. “I’m _dandy_.”

“Dandy is not what someone is when they’re putting _pliers_ in their mouth, Oliver. This is the stupidest thing you’ve done in a long time.” She tossed the pliers away. “I should probably be grateful considering the long list of stupid things you’ve done.”

“Hey.” Oliver’s reaction time was literally half of what it usually was - he slowly turned to where she’d thrown them, swaying on  his feet, before pouting. “Those were mine.”

“Come on.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and tried to walk but he didn’t move. “Oliver… you are _heavy._ Use those things called legs and walk.”

“Feli… city, I think…”

Oliver swayed again.

“Oliver…” she managed before he nearly toppled them over. “Oh my god, how much have you…” And then he really did fall, right against the pillar. Felicity let out a startled squeak as he wrapped his arms around her waist before he slid down to the floor, taking her with him. “Oliver!”

They landed in a mess of tangled limbs, Oliver grinning like a fool as he sloppily tugged her closer with a murmured, “That’s better.”

“Oh, ew.” Felicity made a face when she shifted on the ground, her entire leg coming away covered in filth. “There goes this skirt.”

“You’re pretty,” Oliver whispered, pushing his face into her neck.

Felicity couldn’t help her little laugh as she wrapped her arms around him. “And you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You’re extremely drunk.”

“You’re extremely pretty.”

Extremely came out like, _‘esstremely,’_ and Felicity snorted.

“How much did you drink?”

“A cup.”

“Oh, okay. Was it a big cup?”

“It was _cup_ … A cup, of… big tequila. It doesn’t matter because I have good news,” he said, cuddling her closer as he grinned. “My mouth doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“That’s it, mister, you’re going to the dentist tomorrow.”

She _felt_ him pout where his lips were pressed to her throat. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fine, huh? I’ll believe that if you can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“Sufer… califrazilistic… expidocious.”

Felicity laughed. “That was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “So no dentist.”

“Oh no, you’re going.”

“Felicity.”

“Oliver.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, you will be fine after the dentist.”

“No, I’m fine now.”

“What do you have against the dentist?”

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

“Nothing.”

“Oliver.”

“Felicity.”

“Oh my god.”

“Mm,” Oliver hummed, turning his attention to the other things his lips were capable of. He kissed a wet trail up her neck to her earlobe. His teeth nipped at her, making her shiver despite herself. Even though he couldn’t think, talk or stand up on his own, he felt her reaction and he tightened his grip on her with a soft growled, “Let’s go home.”

“You are not going to distract me.”

“I’m not trying to distract you…”

His hand slid up her side to cup her breast as he licked and nipped his way down her jaw.

“Oliver…”

How could he be so damn drunk but still so… good at that?

Felicity gasped, closing her eyes, grabbing his hand to stop it.

“I have a proposition,” she whispered, turning her face into his, kissing him softly. God, she could _taste_ the fact that he’d obviously made out with an entire jug of tequila on his breath.

“What?” he asked, nuzzling his nose against hers.

“If you go to the dentist…” He instantly frowned, pulling back and she grabbed his face to keep him from moving any further. She didn’t miss his wince when she pressed down on his broken tooth. “I’ll wear the red thing again.”

Oliver paused, narrowing his eyes in interest.

She bit her lip to keep from grinning because she knew she had him.

“How long will you wear the red thing?” he asked.

“As long as it takes you to rip it off me,” she replied, brushing her lips against his.

He wasn’t deterred. “We both know that isn’t long. A week.”

“You want me to wear it for a week.”

“Every night. All night. All day. Wear it to work.”

Felicity laughed, imagining walking through her office wearing the delicate negligee that hid absolutely _nothing_. “I really don’t think that’s work appropriate.”

“Don’t go to work then.”

“Okay. I’ll wear it when I’m at home, for an entire week,” Felicity amended. “If you go to the dentist.”

Oliver furrowed his brow in contemplation.

“I’ll put it on right when I get home… which means I’ll wear it when I’m cleaning up after dinner… and getting ready for bed… doing laundry… bending over…&rdrdquo

He made a little choking noise, his eyes darkening, his hold on her tightening.

And then he nodded.

Emphatically.

“Okay,” he said. “Dentist.”

“Tomorrow.”

His face fell before he nodded again. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Felicity said, kissing him. “And I’ll go with you, you’ll be fine.”

He made a sound of disagreement, returning her kiss, and then he pulled back. “Can that week start tonight?”

The End 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/134993450484/hey-me-again-so-ive-been-at-dentist-a-lot-lately)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	26. Happy Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous: Ill give you a prompt!! for Halloween!! I enjoy Halloween!! Established Olicity Felicity in a tight costume bobbing for apples.. Oliver enjoys the view ;D
> 
> (Everyone’s alive and happy, because it’s Halloween and that’s when ghosts come out to play. Alternate canon S4.)

“I can’t believe you didn’t wear the tights.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at his best friend. “You didn’t want me wearing the tights.”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Alright, I can’t believe she let you leave the house _not_ wearing the tights.”

“Oh, she definitely tried,” Oliver replied, lifting his leg, indicating the leather pants he was wearing. The green leather pants. His Green Arrow leather pants. “I barely talked her into letting me just wear these.”

“Man, I cannot tell you how happy it makes me seeing how completely whipped you are,” Tommy said, clapping his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Do you know how amazing it is to have my best friend in the club with me?”

Oliver chuckled, pointing his beer bottle at Tommy’s costume. “Is that why you’re wearing tights?”

Tommy snorted. “First of all, my friend, these are pants. They are tight pants, yes, but they are extremely comfortable, so I think I beat you there. And second of all, that’s really rich coming from the guy who spends his nights shooting arrow into bad guys and then comes home to his girlfriend dressing him up as Robin Hood for Halloween.”

They hadn’t planned on coming to Tommy and Laurel’s costume party. It was the first night in weeks they’d both had off and he’d been more than happy to spend it wrapped around her, but then Felicity had walked in the door with two large party bags, a mischievously hopeful grin on her face.

“She insisted it was the last costume they had,” Oliver said and Tommy laughed, both of them knowing that was crap.

Oliver raised his beer to his lips for a drink, his eyes sweeping the room, looking for the troublemaker that was his girlfriend. Her eyes had been so wide and bright when she’d shown him his costume, and the second he’d seen green, he’d immediately vetoed it… which’d lasted about ten seconds, especially when her lower lip popped out in a gorgeous little pout, followed by her showing him _her_ costume.

He found her, on the opposite side of the room, standing next to a large bail of water and apples, gesturing something at Laurel and Sara, respectively dressed as Catwoman and Poison Ivy.

Sara said something he couldn’t see before gesturing at the bowl, and Felicity shook her head in a way that told him she was rolling her eyes.

And then she was bending over… to bob for apples.

Oliver paused mid-swig, his eyes latching onto her shapely ass as she leaned over the tub, having to lean over very, very far to reach the water. The muscles in her toned thighs moved with her as she bobbed, her legs long and beautiful as hell in the platform boots she wore, all soft and supple, leading up to that beautiful ass that made his mouth water as it strained against the lines of her costume.

He’d done everything in his power to tone his down - he’d argued against the tights and the ridiculous shorts as well as the hat, but the look she’d given him told him he’d better pick his battles a little more wisely, leading to him wearing the unnaturally tight, fashionably torn sleeveless top and the hat that made him feel like a jackass.

She’d embraced every bit of her costume.

Wonder Woman.

She was wearing the _hell_ out of her outfit, looking like a Wonder Woman catsuit had been spray-painted on her. The light blue shorts - if you could even call them shorts - were covered in white stars and hitched high up on her waist, leading to a red and gold corset that hugged her breasts. She had a gold lasso tied to her hip and a headband keeping her full head of wavy hair out of her face, along with two gold manacles on her wrists. The thick bracelets had small metal hoops melded on each side.

When he’d asked about them, she’d told him she found them in the bondage section of the sex store that happened to be in the same building as the costume shop. He’d immediately asked why she’d been in _there_ , and she’d just winked at him.

He was even more glad he hadn’t worn those ridiculous tights because his pants were suddenly way too tight.

Before Oliver knew it, his beer was gone, and he thought he heard Tommy saying something, thought he felt him poking his shoulder, but he only had eyes for his girlfriend where she was bobbing for apples.

She made a valiant effort, gripping the edge of the tub, moving back and forth, rubbing against the damn thing in a way that made him groan… and then she was standing up with a triumphant sound, an apple clutched tightly in her mouth.

Sara laughed as Laurel said something.

Felicity turned to face him.

Oliver’s mouth went dry. Her chin was wet, water slipping down her neck in thin little lines, sliding into her subtle cleavage - his tongue wanted to follow each and every single line - and her mouth was spread wide, her bright red lips matching the color of the apple her teeth held.

“Oh shit,” he breathed.

Felicity grabbed the fruit and took a hearty bite out of it, her darkening eyes on him, her eyebrow lifting in an intimate knowledge that made his bones melt and he knew without a doubt that they both wanted something else in her mouth.

Oliver choked down a groan.

“Yeah, that was totally hot,” Tommy said.

Oliver’s response was to hand him his empty beer bottle with a rushed, “We have to… go… upstairs for a minute,” before pushing his way through the crowd of costumed people.

“Real smooth, buddy!” Tommy shouted after him, and Oliver could only wave his hand at his best friend over his shoulder.

Felicity met him halfway and Oliver wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Sara shouted crude remarks after them as they darted towards the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/132280545469/ill-give-you-a-prompt-for-halloween-i-enjoy)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	27. I Will Always Protect You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Oliver Queen gets shot at during a movie premiere.
> 
> Prompt - Anonymous: 006 fluffy prompt pleeease (006: “I will always be there protect you.“)

_“I will always be there to protect you.”_

Gun shots.

That was the last thing he remembered - the sharp cut of a gun going off followed by the heavy spray of bullets as someone fired into the crowd, shouts and screams filling the air… no, not into the crowd. _At him._ They’d been firing at _him_.

And they’d hit _her_.

“No,” Oliver breathed, the world coming back in a heady rush. His eyes snapped open, instantly shutting again when a thick shaft of light from the spotlights sliced through his head. He could hear a helicopter hovering somewhere, and people talking \- everywhere, they were everywhere, surrounding him - and _tears_ , so many tears, someone was crying, sobbing…

Had someone died?

Had she…?

His mind instantly revolted.

“No…”

She’d saved his life. She’d saved _his_ life, his worthless, meaningless life, and he hadn’t told her, he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her. And he’d had time, he’d always had time. He was Oliver Queen, he could _buy_ time, but he’d always thought he’d get his _moment._

That moment had disappeared the second he’d heard the guns and then she’d been throwing herself in front of him, her body wrenching at an unnatural angle when the bullet slammed into her chest.

_“I will always be there to protect you.”_

He’d had one second to scream - _not her, not her not her_ \- when a bullet had hit him, grazing his temple while another had lodged into his shoulder, pulling him away from her as darkness had fallen around him…

 _Not her._

“He’s awake!”

Oliver’s eyes snapped open again.

 _Chaos_.

A movie premiere, he’d been going to a movie premiere and the crowd had been so big, so ridiculously big and the lights and cameras, they’d been everywhere. He’d felt her at his back, always there, always protecting him, and then…

 _Chaos_.

It still reigned.

He blinked, shaking his head as hands fell on him, someone touching his cheek, someone else telling him to stop moving, another person checking his pulse… he didn’t feel his wounds or the wet blood coating half his face or the hard ground or his heart pounding so hard it was about to crack his chest plate open… he didn’t feel _anything_ but the bone-deep horror of what he’d just seen.

_Not her._

_“I will always be there to protect you.”_

“Felicity?” he mumbled, blinking against the harsh light, flinching away from the hands, pushing others out of his face as he moved to get up, to see for himself, to see if she was still there, still lying there… The second he moved, he felt his injuries, the bullet hole in his shoulder _tearing_ and what felt like another one in his other arm mirroring the sharp ugly sting on his head, but the instant the pain reared its head, he shoved it back down, all his focus on finding _her_.

She’d taken a bullet for him.

She’d given her life for his.

It hadn’t been real, there was no way it’d been real, because that would mean…

 _No_.

“Felicity?” he said again, his voice gaining strength as people around him said, “Mr. Queen, please, you have to stay still,” and, “Get that medic over here!” and, “Sir, you’re bleeding a lot, please…”

He didn’t _care._

“Where is she?” Oliver asked, pushing himself up, shoving people out of his way.

Someone tried to push him back down but he pushed back, not letting them as someone else tried to hold him still, like he was wavering…

“I’m _fine_ ,” he snapped at them. “Where is she?”

Someone’s hand appeared in front of him and he grabbed it, using them to pull himself to his feet, nearly yanking them off theirs, his eyes flying all over the crowd.

So many people, there were so many people…

“Felicity?”

Every inch of him was starting to shake - he wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or fear or blood loss or shock, he didn’t know and he didn’t care as long as he was able to stay up until he found her.

“Mr. Queen, _please_ …”

“Felicity?” he shouted, his head spinning as he looked for her, but the more he moved, the more the world started jolting in weird places, at weird intervals, like he was about to black out. Oliver shook his head, pushing it down again, blinking the dancing spots out of his eyes. “Felicity?”

She wasn’t there, she wasn’t there, she wasn’t answering, she was…

_No._

And then suddenly there was a flash of red and… blonde.

Oliver’s heart jumped into his throat, whipping his head back to where he’d seen it.

“Oliver!”

Her voice was an instant balm washing over him and Oliver let out a gush of air, choking on it as she said his name again, and again…

_She was okay._

“Oliver, what are you…?”

And then she was in front of him.

_She was alive._

“Felicity,” he gasped, grabbing her. The world around him disappeared as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could, breathing her in, feeling her. She was warm and responsive, hugging him back, whispering something he couldn’t hear over the rush of blood flooding his ears. He’d never felt anything so amazing in his life, _nothing_ , and he didn’t want to let her go, not for anything.

“Oliver,” she said, letting him go but the instant her hands moved away, he gripped her tighter. “Hey, I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“I saw you,” he gasped, shaking his head. “I saw you get shot, you got shot, you took that bullet…” And then what he was saying caught up with him and he pulled back, his hands dropping to her waist to push her back just enough to see, his eyes dropping down to her chest, to where he’d _seen_ her get hit… but the red dress didn’t have any additional coloring. It was red, the same bright red, nothing dark or wet or… “But…?”

“Kevlar,” Felicity said, smiling, rapping her knuckles against something hard and plastic underneath her dress. “I will definitely have a nasty bruise in the morning, but that’s it. Special design just for evening gowns.” She grinned, winking. “Told you I’d put all that Queen money to good use.”

Oliver could only stare at her.

She was here.

She was alive.

“Felicity,” he said, shaking his head, her name coming out in a breathless litany as he just stared at her. She was… her hair was wrecked, all over the place like a sporadic halo, and she was covered in dirt and sweat and her makeup was smudged… he’d never seen anything so goddamn _beautiful_. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Felicity said, nodding, sounding so calm and under control. She stared at him for a split second longer… and a tiny crease appeared between her brows, her lids fluttering as an emotion he’d never seen appeared in her eyes. He felt her hand on his arm tightening minutely… and then she shook her head, her eyes dropping down to his shoulder and back up to his face where the wound there ached. “But you’re not.”

He didn’t _care_.

“Oliver, you need to sit down, you need to…”

He didn’t waste another fucking second.

Oliver pulled her back into his arms, wrapping her up, his lips falling on hers, muffling the rest of her words.

She let out a little squeak of surprise as she stiffened in shock, her eyes wide and incredulous… but it only lasted a few seconds because then she was melting into him, melting against him, wrapping herself around him, returning his kiss.

He moaned, opening his mouth to her, running his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opened for him, almost as if it were instinct, and he didn’t let the opportunity pass him by.

Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy, kissed the absolute hell out of Felicity Smoak, his bodyguard, until the need for air was too great, and even then he only pulled back to take in a heaping gasp of air, his chest expanding too rapidly, the world starting to fade into little black dots again, but that was all he allowed himself before he was kissing her again, and again.

He couldn’t get enough - he needed her, all of her, and he had, for such a long time.

They didn’t hear the world around them, didn’t see the cameras flashing or the police pushing the paparazzi away…

It was only them.

Just them.

“Oh wow,” Felicity breathed, her lips moving against his and he grinned, kissing her again. “Oliver…”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, wrapping one arm tighter around her waist, keeping her flush against him, pulling his hand up to cup her cheek, holding her close, _cradling_ her. “I am in love with you, Felicity Smoak, and I can’t believe I wasted the last three years not telling you.”

Felicity just blinked.

“I don’t care,” Oliver said, shaking his head as he spoke, “How long it takes me, or if you never feel the same way, I don’t care, because I had to tell you. The second that gun went off and you…” His voice cracked and he swallowed it down. “You don’t have to say anything or do anything and I totally understand if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I completely understand, especially since you just took a…”

She cut him off with a kiss, and it was his turn to be surprised before his body responded for him, moving with her as naturally as if they’d been doing it for _years_ already.

But they hadn’t. They’d danced around each other, ever since his mother had hired her as his bodyguard. They’d danced through the years of him attempting to ditch her, of her attempting to rein him in, the years of caustic remarks and aggravated tiffs, of small oft moments, of little touches that meant nothing before they suddenly meant everything, of having to see each other with other people, of having to exist around each other but not _with_ each other…

_Years._

How long would he have gone before he said anything?

Would he ever have?

_No._

He knew that.

He’d had to watch her get _shot_ for him to realize he was a goddamn fucking idiot.

“Felicity,” he moaned and she laughed, cupping his face and neck. His skin was slick with something - blood, he was pretty sure it was blood - but neither of them noticed it as he pulled back to look down at her. “Are you…?”

“Do you remember, when we first met…” Felicity started, sounding as breathless as he felt. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

Oliver’s eyes slammed shut, letting his forehead fall against hers, remembering it like it was yesterday. “Are you talking about that stupid crack about the eggs?”

Felicity laughed again, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am.”

“You were chewing on a pen,” he said, the memory coming to life in his mind’s eye.

“Oh god, I was, wasn’t I?”

“It was the first thing I noticed,” he said and she blinked. “That and the way you raised your eyebrow, already so annoyed with me.” He laughed and she joined him, shaking her head because they both knew it was true. “It was red.”

“It…” Felicity stared at him, a new light shining in her eyes. “Yeah, it was.”

“And you said you’d poison my eggs if you ever woke up with me next to you,” Oliver finished, and she giggled, shaking her head. “And you were dead serious.”

“I was… and I’m still very serious about that, Oliver,” Felicity said, pulling back to look up at him.

Oliver’s stomach dropped. What did that mean, did she…? He furrowed his brow, almost letting her go before she looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes.

“I can’t cook.”

Oliver started at that. “You can’t…?”

“I know you just got shot, but if you want to eat breakfast tomorrow morning, you’ll have to cook.” She shrugged. “It’s a good thing you already know how I like my eggs.”

Oliver shook his head in wonder, a grin spreading across his face. “I love you, Felicity Smoak.”

“I love you, Oliver Queen,” Felicity said and then she pulled him back down to her, their lips crashing together.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/136121867869/006-fluffy-prompt-pleeease)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	28. Cold Toes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU. Felicity's toes are cold during a study group.
> 
> Prompt - Anonymous: prompt: you can put your cold feet on me! (034: “You can put your cold feet on me.”)

“You can put your cold feet on me.”

Her head shot up, the bright red pen dangling between her lips muffling her quiet, “What?”

The second her eyes found his, Oliver’s heart dropped, his mouth going dry as his brain slowly registered that all of her attention was on _him_ … and that he wasn’t doing anything, or saying anything.

Felicity furrowed her brow after a second, jolting him back to the moment.

“Uh, you were…”

Oliver swallowed, his brain struggling to find _words_. He was Oliver freaking Queen, why was he so tongue-tied around this girl? What was it about her that made his insides melt while simultaneously dancing with nerves that made him want to throw up? He’d never felt like this around a girl, not in his entire life, and he felt like he should run from it… but he wasn’t, he was definitely not running - the only thing he wanted to do was be closer to her. _Always_. It didn’t matter what they were doing - whether it was ‘running into her’ on a coffee run or asking to join her study group - he wanted to be around her.

“Cold feet,” he blurted in a whisper - they were in the library, that was the reason why he was whispering, not to avoid the humorous stares coming from Caitlin and Ronnie at the other end of the table. “You said your feet were cold.”

“Oh,” Felicity said, grabbing her pen as she looked down at her feet, almost like she’d forgotten they were there. Her mouth twisted in a little ‘o’ shape and he felt a pang in his chest - she was so unbelievably cute and sexy and gorgeous, all at the same time. How was that possible? “I did, yeah. Flip-flops are so not air-conditioned-library-friendly.”

“You can put them, um… under my leg, if you want?”

Her eyes just widened slightly, and he had a moment of panic that he’d just scandalized her or something.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he whispered quickly. “I was just… here, and your feet are…”

She was starting to smile and it made his heart race at impossible speeds. Was it possible to pass out from having a huge crush on a girl who was way out of his league? He was seriously leaning towards _yes._

“They’re there,” he continued lamely. “Right there, and I’m here, because I… I have… pants. On.”

“You do have pants on,” Felicity said, her smile growing. “My toes would love to be in your pants - _under_ your pants. No, in… I mean your leg!” A gorgeous light blush surged up her neck, making her cheeks glow as she bowed her head. “Not _in_ _your pants_ because… that’s, like, weird fetish territory and I don’t think we know each other well enough yet to talk about any weird toes fetishes, or that we’ll ever know each other well enough to talk about fetishes… because…” She closed her eyes. “And I’m going to stop talking in three… two… one…” After a moment, she opened them again and gave him a grateful smile. “My cold toes would appreciate that very much.”

Oliver was grinning. Usually he’d have a witty remark about fetishes or them ‘getting to know each other’ but he didn’t _want_ to do that, he didn’t want that with Felicity, not with her.

All he wanted to do was be the guy who warmed her cold feet.

And that freaked him right the hell out.

But before he could really _freak out_ because he _really liked her_ , Felicity let her flip-flops drop to the ground and she twisted in her seat, lifting her legs.

She pushed her purple-painted toes under his leg.

Oliver’s heart stopped again and he lifted his leg a bit, letting her in further, reveling in her content sigh and the ice-cold chill from her feet. His body heat was already warming her up, and that alone had something warming in his chest, something he didn’t even know was there.

“So much better,” Felicity said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Oliver said with a little smile.

He ducked his head the instant he felt his cheeks start to grow warm, missing the secret smile on her lips as she too ducked her head.

“Were we that bad?” Ronnie whispered to his girlfriend, tugging on her hand where they were laced together under the table.

“There’s no way we were that oblivious,” Caitlin responded, shaking her head at Oliver and Felicity before turning back to her work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/136126082754/prompt-you-can-put-your-cold-feet-on-me)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	29. They Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU. 
> 
> Prompt - Anonymous: 042: "My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on."

**“My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on.”**

Felicity’s head shot up from under the comforter. “What?”

“Text,” Oliver said, lifting her phone. He barely glanced back, his brow furrowed as he stared at the screen, and Felicity was ashamed to admit it made the fact that his back was completely and totally _littered_ with her lipstick even cuter. “A text from… Thea.”

_Thea._

His sister _Thea_ , her roommate _Thea_ , which meant…

“Thea!” Felicity shot up, yanking the sheets and comforters up to her chin. “Her parents are coming, which means…”

“My parents,” Oliver concluded.

He was entirely _way too calm_.

“Oh my god,” Felicity yelped, tossing the blanket aside and rocketing off the bed, leaping for her clothes. “Get up, get up!”

He squinted at the phone. “She sent this ten minutes ago.”

“She did not,” Felicity said, running over to him half-naked, snatching the phone out of his hand. Nine minutes. Thea’d sent it _nine minutes ago_. Oliver was clearly not feeling the urgency and she scowled down at him, her scowl darkening when she saw the lascivious grin he shot her as his hand slid between her naked thighs, slipping up… Felicity smacked his shoulder. “Oliver!”

“What?” he asked with a laugh, dodging away from her slaps.

“Your parents are practically _here_ and they don’t know about us and they can’t find you here because we aren’t supposed to be like _that_ and you’re… putting your hand in there like this isn’t serious. Stop laughing!”

“Felicity, come on, it’s not that big a deal,” he said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her waist, anchoring her to him. “They’re gonna find out anyway.”

“Not like this, they won’t!” Felicity tried to move away but he tightened his hold on her. “Oliver!”

“Hey, hang on, hang on, c’mere,” Oliver said, pulling her back into his embrace, hugging her closer where she stood between his legs. He looked up at her, bracing his chin on her stomach as he asked in a quiet voice that tugged at her heart, “Do you not want them to know?”

“Oliver…” Felicity’s hands found his hair of their own volition - it was wild, standing up straight in every direction from sleep and other activities that were definitely the opposite of _rest_. “I do want them to know. I want _everyone_ to know.”

“Everyone already does know.”

“But not them,” she protested. “They’re… they’re like my second parents already. I was at your guys’ house more than my own and suddenly here we are, doing very, very… _illicit_ things, things that are _bad_ in the eyes of parents…” Oliver started chuckling and she tugged on his hair to make him stop. “Oliver, I’m serious. We’re doing this and they don’t even know about it.”

“Trust me, they won’t mind a bit.”

“I know they won’t. But what I do mind is them finding out like _this_. Can we tell them like the civilized adults we kinda are? Please?”

“Like what, take them out to dinner and say, ‘Mom, dad, you guys know Felicity, right? Yep, the wild-haired girl who lived in Thea’s room for most of her childhood? Yeah well, I’ve been in love with her since the second I saw her and we’ve been dating for about two months now.’”

Her stomach _swooped_.

“You have not,” Felicity said.

“What?”

“You have not been in love with me that long.”

“Yes,” Oliver said with a smile, kissing her stomach softly. “I have.”

“Oliver…” Felicity’s heart swelled at the pure love and truth in his eyes. She couldn’t help herself - she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his head. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, angling his head to deepen the kiss when someone knocked at her bedroom door.

They both froze.

“Felicity?”

 _Moira_.

“Crap,” Felicity hissed, yanking Oliver up to his feet. She grabbed his shirt and shoved it at him as she crowded him towards the window. “Go!”

“You want me to jump out the window?” Oliver hissed back and she nodded frantically. “Closet, Felicity!”

“There’s no room in there,” Felicity replied, opening the window. “Remember when you went to that book sale with me last week?”

“They’re in there?”

“I don’t have that much room, Oliver! Now go!”

“This is ridiculous,” Oliver breathed, swinging a foot out the window before turning back to her. She was already turning to grab some pants as Moira knocked on her door again but Oliver grabbed her arm, yanking her back. He cut off her protests with a kiss, one she felt all the way down to her toes, one that left them both breathless. “Tonight. We tell them tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Felicity replied with a happy grin. “Be careful.”

Oliver just snorted, pushing himself out the rest of the way.

*

Six minutes later, when Felicity had gotten dressed and made sure she was at least semi-respectable looking and had opened the door to Moira who had the new tech book she’d promised she’d bring by, she was downstairs with Moira and Thea when someone knocked at the front door.

“It’s open,” Thea shouted just as Felicity moved to answer it.

Robert Queen opened the door and stepped in, followed by a very sheepish, still-shirtless Oliver… an Oliver who had way more lipstick-stained kiss marks all over his body than she remembered.

_Oh god._

Felicity froze, her eyes widening, her blush matching the one coloring Oliver.

“You might want to get some new lawn ornaments,” Robert said, his hand landing on Felicity’s shoulder as he leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Felicity.”

“Hi,” Felicity replied automatically, her eyes glued to Oliver’s.

“I hope you two have a better explanation than what Oliver gave me outside,” Robert said, the amusement clear in his eyes. “Fixing the roof in his only boxers isn’t very plausible.”

“Well, there… was a… Frisbee,” Felicity started and Robert’s chuckle cut her off.

“Or you two fess up to finally pulling your heads out of your asses after being in love for years,” he said.

“What?” Oliver and Felicity asked at the same time, making Robert laugh as he shook his head.

“It was only a matter of time, you two,” he said, clapping their shoulders, nearly making Felicity stumble right into Oliver’s arms again. “Now go put some clothes on, Oliver, you look ridiculous.”

“Okay,” he said absently, his eyes on Felicity as Robert moved to meet a very amused-looking Moira and Thea. “They know.”

“They know,” Felicity repeated.

“I should put clothes on.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Oliver gave her a chaste kiss, one that felt so natural and perfect and  _them_ that she found herself grinning as Oliver ducked back up the stairs to his drawer that he’d had in her room long before they started actually dating, and the grin was still on her face when she turned to face the Queens, who only made it worse when Thea asked, “So when’s the wedding?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/136131290944/042-my-parents-are-coming-over-in-10-minutes-so)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	30. The Internship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Oliver and Felicity find out they're in the same internship at QC.
> 
> Prompt - Anonymous: I always enjoy Olicity au fics. Especially with O/F as teenagers. Just imagine asshole Ollie and the goth girl who doesn't seem the least bit interested in him- who just happens to be his on-off again gf's stepsister. But he can't help to be attracted to this girl even though it's a hot complicated mess lmao

Oliver wasn’t sure what happened first when he saw her: his heart dropping because Felicity Smoak was standing on the steps outside Queen Consolidated, or his stomach dropping because she wasn’t alone.

Either way, he froze more than a dozen feet away, his eyes locked on her as she talked to whoever the _hell_  she was talking to. 

Did she have a boyfriend? Since when? Laurel hadn’t mentioned anybody… not that she _would_  - Sore Subject #389: Oliver’s apparent interest in her stepsister that he’d been rabidly denying since the second Laurel brought it up two years ago. He didn’t  _like_  Felicity, not like that. They could barely stand to be around each other much less spend a single minute talking long enough to find anything they _might_  have in common. 

She was _intriguing_ ; there was something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and instead of brushing it off and moving on, it kept _nagging_ at him.

She was just… _intriguing._

Or maybe it was that ridiculous goddamn makeup she caked all over herself that made him stare at her.

Oliver took her in - she was wearing something nice and soft under her usual leather jacket, still wearing the same blue-black hair and dark lipstick that made her lips look…  _intriguing_.

What was she doing there?

_The internship._

Of course.

Well, this was going to be a very interesting summer.

She rolled her eyes at something the guy was saying, and Oliver saw the instant she caught sight of him. Her shoulders suddenly deflated, the flirty smile on her lips dying a quick death.

His chest tightened - because she’d caught him staring at her - _again_ \- not because she was looking at him at all.

Felicity turned to him, cocking her head, raising an eyebrow and Oliver offered her his quintessential Ollie Queen grin as he moved towards her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, the disdain apparent in her tone. It didn’t escape his attention that she dropped the guy’s hands, or that the guy himself frowned at that before turning to see what was upsetting her.  


“That’s a fine way to greet family, Felicity,” Oliver replied, his hand fluttering over his chest. “I’m hurt.”  


“That’s rich considering I’m pretty sure you and Laurel are on the outs again,  _Oliver,_ ” she responded, quick as a whip, ignoring his usual ‘Ollie’ like she always did as she offered him a grin so fake it made her face look plastic.  


Oliver hummed in response, scrunching his nose at her sarcastically before turning to the guy. “Boyfriend?”

“None of your business,” Felicity said. “You didn’t answer my question, what are you doing here?”  


“I should be asking you that considering it’s my name on the building.”  


“It’s your _father’s_  name on the building, jackass, not yours.”  


“Ah,” Oliver said, pointing at her. “Which is why I’m here, to learn everything my father has to teach me.”

Felicity opened her mouth to respond before stopping, her brow furrowing as the realization of what he was saying dawned on her. And then she shook her head. “No.”

Oliver’s brows went up. “No what?”  


“You’re not actually here for the internship.”  


Oliver grinned, both at her immediate response and at the fact that the idea of that really _bothered_  her. “Yes, yes I am.”

“No.”  


“Yes.”  


“You have to _qualify_  for this internship, Oliver,” Felicity said. “You aren’t qualified.”  


“Says who?”  


“Says me,” Felicity rebuked. “I say that, me, because I qualified and I… this is… you’re not supposed to be here!”

“What’s the matter, you afraid I’ll do better than you?”  


She snorted. “Please. We both know you can’t tell your head from your ass.”

“I don’t know how you deal with her,” Oliver said, glancing at the guy and he didn’t have to be looking at her to see her face twisting in incredulous anger at that. He stuck his hand out. “Oliver.”  


“Cooper,” the guy replied, shaking his hand. “You’re dating Laurel?”  


“Not currently,” Oliver said. The guy frowned, and it made Oliver feel oddly _good_ , but he didn’t take the time to examine the feeling. Instead he turned back to Felicity with a grin and an eyebrow wiggle. “See you inside.”

“You’re serious,” she said by way of response, her face slack with something akin to horror.  


“As a heart attack,” Oliver replied. He chucked her shoulder. “Come on, it’s gonna be _fun_.” He glanced the guy as he took a step back, moving towards the entrance. “It was nice meeting you. Don’t keep her too long, the bosses frown on tardiness and we don’t want our favorite girl getting in trouble on her first day.”

Oliver turned before they could respond, jogging up the steps towards the revolving doors, catching the guy’s, “He’s an asshole,” and Felicity’s, “Oh god, this is gonna be a long summer,” both of which made him smile.

This internship just got a helluva lot more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/136304680494/i-always-enjoy-olicity-au-fics-especially-with)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	31. Banana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 2.5.
> 
> Anonymous Prompt: Im eating a banana and remembering the rule "never make eye contact." How about felicity accidentally makes eye contact with Oliver while eating a banana and unknowingly turns him on. Can be before or after they actally got together.

When Oliver knocked on her door, the last thing he expected when she opened it was Felicity barefoot, wearing a soft skirt, a tight tank top, and…

And an unpeeled banana was shoved in her mouth, her teeth digging into the outer skin hard enough to hold it without actually bruising the delicate surface. She was carrying a few other things, a few other things he didn’t really see or care to see or… anything, because his eyes were on the banana.

She had a banana.

In her mouth.

Time instantly slowed down, everything around him slamming to a halt as he stared at her bright red lipstick-covered lips wrapped around the banana, widening her mouth, stretching her cheeks. He caught her tongue darting out as she started speaking around it… but all he saw was her tongue _on_ the banana.

A warm tug in the pit of his stomach made him lick his lips… and his pants were suddenly a little too tight.

Oliver stiffened, forcing his eyes away.

She was talking, gesturing with the crap in her hands, doing stuff, but all he heard was the sound of his heart tripping over itself, sending a rush of white noise through his head like a tsunami that threatened to take him under.

It was a banana, nothing more.

Just a banana… between her lips, in her mouth… her teeth digging in softly…

_Shit._

“You know what I mean?” she asked, her words muffled by the banana.

Oliver’s eyes flew to hers and he nodded, pinching his lips, wracking his brain for what she was saying…

“And then I got this in the mail, which I’ve been waiting for, but of course it came now…”

Her words sent his eyes straight back to the offending yellow fruit before he could stop himself and his hand flew out to the doorjamb, gripping it tightly as his pants grew tighter. What the _hell_ was the matter with him, what was he doing? What was _she_ doing, why wasn’t she taking the damn thing out?

_He didn’t want her to._

Damn it.

The more she talked, the more her tongue moved, the more her lips flexed, the more he wondered…

_No._

“I haven’t eaten since this morning either, so I was starving, but then I realized my apartment was kind of a disaster so I thought multi-tasking…” Felicity angled her head for him to follow her and she turned. His eyes were traitorous bastards as they immediately dropped to her backside, to the little skirt. It was short, flowery and short and showing her legs and…

And if she bent over… with a banana in her mouth…

Oliver’s eyes snapped shut as he stepped in, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath, listening to her walk away. He didn’t move, his hand dropping to grip the doorknob tightly, tight enough it bit into his palm.

He’d been spending too much time with her, that was all. She’d been helping him bone up - bone up? That’s what his mind came up with? - for the meeting with the board in a few weeks, making him study… in her apartment. Her apartment where she was _everywhere_ , everything was bright and clean and fresh, and god, it smelled like her and…

She’d worn those shorts that one time.

And that t-shirt…

And those sweats the other night…

Too much time in here. Around her, just her.

Maybe he’d suggest they get lunch. She said she was starving. Yeah, that was good, lunch. Lunch in a crowded place. With people everywhere. And clothes.

No, a place where she’d be forced to wear a burlap sack.

Not that skirt.

Felicity dropped the stuff in her hands on the kitchen counter and turned back to him, waving at her apartment which was kind of messy - clothes were dropped in piles here and there, books and magazines scattered, papers and pens, a laptop in pieces on her dining room table.

Oliver focused very hard on the mess.

“… but as you can see that isn’t going very well. Why am I still talking with this in my mouth?”

 _Oh god_.

*

Felicity pulled the banana out of her mouth and rolled her eyes. “Here I am babbling about being hungry,” she said, peeling the banana. She was _starving_ , she really needed to stop skipping meals. “And I’ve got this. Ha, concept.”

“We should go out then,” Oliver replied just as Felicity took a bite, prompting her to look at him. “I mean, for lunch. Food.”

His voice was oddly rough, like he’d swallowed a bug and Felicity was about to chew and swallow so she could ask him if he all their late-night studying was getting him sick when she saw what he was looking at.

His eyes were on the banana.

The one in her mouth.

Her lips were wrapped around it mid-bite, and for a reason that was entirely unfathomable to her, she _stopped_ … and stared.

The air between them sprang to life with a tension she’d never felt before.

Oliver’s lips were parted slightly, his eyes narrowed in on where she was biting into the fruit…

 _Oh god_.

He looked like… like he was… _turned on_.

No, no, no, surely she was imagining that because he didn’t… they weren’t like that, he didn’t see her that way, they’d sort of established that with the whole Slade thing, the whole ‘unthinkable’ thing, and things had been so calm and normal between them, especially since they’d started spending more time together doing non-Arrow stuff, and…

And then Oliver licked his lips - oh _god_ , he licked his lips, making her entire lower half clench at the sight in a way that was so totally not platonic before his eyes drifted up, meeting hers.

Felicity had no idea - _no idea_ \- what made her bite into the banana at that exact moment, but she did. Her eyes never left his as she took a bite, her teeth cutting through the fruit with ease. She didn’t miss the quick exhale of air from him - a sound that made her stomach feel very, very warm - or the way his eyes darkened, his shoulder stiffening as they just stared at each other.

While she ate a banana.

While her lips were wrapped around a phallic object and…

Wasn’t there some rule that you don’t eat bananas like that, that you never make eye contact because _hello_?

_What was she doing?_

Felicity quickly chewed and dropped her hand with a harried, “Food… lunch, sounds great. Somewhere. With food,” effectively breaking the spell.

Sort of.

She licked her lips.

And he groaned so quietly she wasn’t even sure she heard it before the same realization hit him.

“Right,” Oliver replied instantly, closing his eyes, clearing his throat before nodding. “Food. Outside.”

“Outside sounds great, very great…” Felicity set the half-eaten banana down. “Outside. With books! I’ll bring your books. To study. Because we have to study, we have to wow the pants off that board - not their pants, their pants will stay on, everyone’s pants will be staying on, this is a no-pants off zone. I mean, technically I don’t wear pants that often, or ever really… I mean in general, like actual pants with legs and…”

 _Shut up_.

“Books,” Felicity said, setting the half-eaten banana on the counter and grabbing the pile of books and notepads she had had ready for their study session. She gave him a smile, one that felt really forced and awkward as she stepped towards him with every intention of going towards the door, of opening it and going outside… except she wasn’t used to Oliver’s giant body in her apartment and where there was usually just a wall to worry about, there was also him and she miscalculated the distance. Felicity brushed right up against his chest… up against his _everything_ and holy frak, she felt _everything_. “Oh!”

Did she really just feel…?

They jumped apart at the same time.

“Sorry,” Oliver croaked, his back hitting the wall, the sound of the frame she had hanging there rattling as Felicity nearly tripped over a stupid pile of books. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, that was me, all me,” Felicity said, practically diving for the door. She opened it with a head gesture. “Food. Go. We go. I mean. Now.”

“Right,” Oliver said with a short nod and then he stepped out.

Felicity closed her eyes, taking a breath. She was clutching the books against her chest so tightly she felt the spines digging into her sternum. Her fingers were bloodless from the pressure and her heart was _racing_.

Who knew a piece of fruit could cause so much awkward trouble? _She knew_ , everyone knew that, everyone knew you didn’t eat bananas like that unless you wanted someone to know that you were thinking about doing that to _them_ and…

“And I’m done thinking,” Felicity said, following Oliver outside, locking the door behind her.

Alrighty then, no more eating bananas around Oliver _ever again._ Not just him, it wasn’t specific to him, it had nothing to do with _him_ ; he just happened to be the one she was eating a banana around at this particular moment, looking very… very…

“Oh boy,” she whispered, stepping away from her apartment. 

It was so beautiful outside, the sun shining, the air clean and dry, the perfect summer day… It helped… until she looked up and saw that Oliver had driven his bike over.

Felicity’s eyes widened, her mind instantly jumping to the idea of being wrapped around him again, like she had been last week when he’d forgotten to grab them dinner…

And she’d had her arms wrapped around his waist, her fingers grazing his belt…

“Oh frak.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/137975489314/im-eating-a-banana-and-remembering-the-rule-never)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	32. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Exes) AU. Prompt: "You're using up all the water"

She barely had time to react to the creaking sound of the door opening when a deep, “You’re using up all the water,” came out of nowhere, echoing in the tiny cabin bathroom. 

Felicity shrieked, spinning to face the voice, her hands dropping to cover her very naked lady parts as she instantly backtracked into the corner of the tiny shower - like maybe the water would conceal her, or the further away she got from him, he would disappear…

But all it did was blind the hell out of her because there was no-freaking-where to go.

Sputtering under the showerhead spraying directly into her, Felicity backtracked, quickly wiping the water from her eyes just in time to hear the rings of the shower curtain as he pulled the freaking thing open.

“Hey!” she shouted just as she fisted a handful of shower curtain and shoved it closed again.

He didn’t give her a second to fully comprehend that _Oliver Jonas Queen_ was in the bathroom - _her_ bathroom, this was her bathroom in her room, which she knew because Diggle had specifically walked in and said, _“This one’s yours. Lyla said you threatened my life the last time we were up here when you didn’t get your own bathroom, and judging by the guilty look on your face, that actually happened.”_ Admittedly, that had been on a trip that involved a lot more people, but still, she was grateful to have her own bathroom and shower… and yet here _he_ was, her glorified ex-boyfriend whom she hadn’t talked to in months, in _her_ bathroom, on _her_ weekend with the Diggles…

What the hell was he even doing there and why the hell was he trying to climb into the shower with her?

“What the hell are you doing?” Felicity snapped as he pulled on the curtain again. She grabbed it with both hands to hold it in place but he yanked, hard enough that it slipped out of her hand. A gush of cool air and a wall of very naked ex-boyfriend started coming at her. “Oliver!” She shoved her hand into his face to push him back but he only huffed in aggravation, twisting so her hand slid right off. “Stop it! Don’t…”

“You’re using up all the hot water, and I’m not taking an ice shower again,” Oliver said, pushing the curtain open wide enough and then he _actually stepped in_. 

Felicity gasped, spinning back to the water to cover herself. At this point in their relationship - or rather, lack thereof - she could actually _hear_ him rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t be such a baby, it’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.” 

“That’s not the point,” Felicity hissed as he pulled the curtain closed, locking them in there together. “Get out, Oliver! That was a long time, a very long time ago, and this is the complete opposite of appropriate behavior with an ex-girlfriend who you don’t see naked anymore. Who you aren’t allowed to see naked anymore, this isn’t allowed. Get out. And what are you even doing here, you’re not supposed to be here. This is my - hey!”

Oliver’s cold hands wrapped around her waist, and she managed another, “ _Hey_ ,” before he pulled her out of the water and took her place. The shower was small - too small - and while he sidestepped her as he moved to stand in front of the water, she still felt _everything_.

Oh frak.

So much frak. 

They were done. They had been done. They didn’t work. They’d tried, but they didn’t work.

Her body never got that memo. 

Her stupid, traitorous body never got the most important memo of all time, the one that had listed at the very top ‘No More Sleeping With Oliver.’ She’d failed a few times during those first few months after the breakup, calling him one time, going over to his place another, seeing him when he stopped by her work… before she finally stopped.

_No more._

They didn’t work, they never worked…

Stupid, stupid body.

Despite herself, the chilled tile of the walls brushing against her breasts and the feeling of him brushing against her ass was… too good. She knew all too well what he was capable of, how he made her feel, what he could do with his fingers, his tongue… how easily he could pick her up right then and… 

_No._

He was _hard_. 

Felicity bit her lip to stop her whimper as he let her go and turned back to the water, looking like none of this was bothering him, like being in the shower - being naked with her again - wasn’t bothering him in the least. She watched him dip his face into the water, scrubbing his hands over his head in such a familiar gesture it made her chest ache.

He’d barely said a word. He’d just walked in like he owned the place and what, was she supposed to just let him?

_Hell no._

Who did he think he was, sneaking into her shower, on her weekend with their friends, like this wasn’t even a big deal?

“I don’t think so,” Felicity said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling on him. She moved to reach around him, shoving him forward to shut the water off, but he knew what she was doing and he spun, pushing her back. “Oliver-”

“Don’t turn it off, you know how long that thing takes to heat up,” he said, wiping water off his face. 

He didn’t move, the water beating against his back - he was specifically keeping his eyes on her face. 

Felicity crossed her arms and _glared_ up at him. 

He just smiled. 

It wasn’t his usual _‘ha, look what I did’_ Ollie Queen smile, no, it was something else, something she only saw when… when he let his defenses down, when he let the charade fade into the background until there was nothing but Oliver left behind.

She hadn’t seen that smile in a long, long time.

It made the ache in her chest a little worse and _she didn’t like it_. 

“Hi,” he said softly, pinching his lips - in uncertainty - and the ache worsened.

She definitely did not like this.

“Get out,” she replied. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He lifted an eyebrow, almost like they were talking in a room full of people, fully clothed, instead of staring at each other naked as hell in a tiny little shower.

“Not supposed to be in here with you or here in general?” he asked, his tone purposefully light and she shoved her finger into the center of his chest. “Ow!”

“You know exactly what I mean. I can’t believe you’d…”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he started, but then he trailed off. Felicity stared at him with a mixture of semi-patient expectation and angry incredulity. “I was coming home from a job when my car broke down a few miles from here.” 

Felicity rolled her eyes. “That is the dumbest…” 

Oliver raised his voice to speak over her. “And I trudged over because I knew Digg’s cabin was here. I didn’t know you guys were going to be here, I didn’t come here specifically to ruin your weekend with them. I wouldn’t do that, Felicity, come on. I know how much you love coming up here.”

“Yeah, I do,” she interjected.

Oliver held his hands up. “I wouldn’t do this on purpose.”

Felicity bit the tip of her tongue, the ache lessening and worsening at the same time. She believed him - she didn’t _have_ to believe him, she knew he wouldn’t do this on purpose, just to ruin her weekend with John and Lyla, she knew that.

_Still._

“And so naturally you come in _here_ , into my shower while I’m in it?”

Oliver let out a breathy chuckle - god, she’d missed that, and she hated him a little bit for doing that stupid trademark Oliver laugh of his that made her insides melt. He closed his eyes as he inhaled through his teeth, shaking his head. 

“I wasn’t…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking, I just did it.” He bit his lip again, staring at her. “The last time I was here was…” 

He opened his eyes, giving her a _look._

“Yeah,” she said, her voice softening, the memory resurfacing. “I remember.”

Oliver hesitated before he continued. “And then it was just happening, and I just… committed.”

“You… _committed_?” Felicity repeated, her words hardening again. “You committed to climbing into the shower with your ex-girlfriend? What if it wasn’t me, did you ever think of that?”

“I knew it was you, Felicity,” he replied.

“So you did know what you were doing!” She poked his chest again, _hard_. “This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and that is saying something when it comes to you.” He rolled his eyes and that only pissed her off more. “You don’t commit to something like this, you turn around and say, ‘Oh, wrong bathroom, my bad,’ or, ‘Oh, didn’t mean to do this, my bad,’ or, ‘Oh, let me just leave before I climb into the shower with my ex-girlfriend.’ You don’t just climb into the shower with your ex-girlfriend, Oliver!” 

“You know…” he started, but she wasn’t done. Felicity poked him again, even _harder_ , making him hiss out a sharp, “Ow, knock it off!” as she berated him.

“You don’t get to do this, Oliver, this isn’t funny, this isn’t a silly little happenstance, this isn’t something we’ll laugh about when we’re fifty and old chummy pals because we’re ‘just friends’.”

“That’s not…”

“No, I’m not done!” Felicity said, her voice rising. “You think it’s easy, seeing you? You think I like the stupid way my chest feels like it’s opening up in this giant black maw of pain whenever I’m around you, because we… we couldn’t…?” She made a frustrated noise. “This is just a reminder that we didn’t work, Oliver, that we couldn’t make it work, and that...”

“Felicity,” Oliver whispered, his face twisting with something she couldn’t name and waved her hand, cutting him off.

“No, stop, you don’t get to say my name like that anymore, you don’t get to use your stupid Oliver voice on me, you don’t get to. This might’ve been cute once upon a time, but I stopped seeing you, I stopped… _everything_ , because I couldn’t _do_ it anymore-”

“I didn’t want to stop,” he interrupted and she laughed, the sound coming out in a burst of disbelief because _how could he not see_?

“I _had_ to stop,” she said, “because you _hurt_ me, Oliver, you hurt me more than I should’ve let you, but I couldn’t not because I _love_ you…” 

The words were before she could stop them and her jaw dropped.

Oliver’s eyes widened, lighting up in a dangerous way, and the second she saw that she tried to backtrack, to get away from him, but there wasn’t enough room. She ran into the cold wall, wincing, nearly falling over in her haste to _get away from him_.  


“I _loved_ you,” she said, shaking her head, reaching for the shower curtain. “Loved. Past tense, all past tense. _We’re_ past tense, not…”

“Felicity,” Oliver breathed, and before she could open the curtain and climb out, he was there, cupping her face…

He pulled her flush against him, the heated length of his body pressing against hers, making her gasp - both at the intimate realization of how much she missed him and the pained reality that she couldn’t have him anymore…

And then Oliver kissed her.

Felicity’s heart stumbled to a stop, her hands grabbing his forearms - to push him away, to push him far away because he couldn’t do this anymore - but she didn’t. She held on, holding him tighter… and she kissed him back.

Oliver moaned, a desperate little sound that echoed in the bathroom, and it was like the key to the floodgates she’d been so frantically trying to keep shut, the ones that’d been cracking open the longer she was around him, just like they always did…

And just like that, Felicity snapped. 

She gasped, pushing herself closer, kissing him harder, wrapping her arms around him, and he responded with just as much ferocity. It was months - _months_ \- of being apart, of always thinking about him, of always wondering, of always remembering, of knowing if she called him, if she went to him, he’d be there… but she’d stopped herself, because the fallout was too great.

But in that moment she didn’t care.

_She didn’t care._

She didn’t care when Oliver pulled back, her name falling from his lips in a litany that had her soaring as he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up, sliding her up the wall. She didn’t care when she wrapped her legs around him, when she felt _him_ sliding against her wetness, so familiar and perfect. The longing desire that whipped through her left her breathless, and before she could do anything, Oliver’s lips were covering hers again, pulling her back under with him.

Always with him.

“God, Felicity,” he groaned against her lips, his voice cracking. “Felicity…”

His hips surged forward, right against her heated core, and she moaned, her head falling back. Oliver blanketed her with his body, his stubbled cheeks scraping against her skin as he kissed along the column of her neck, up to her ear where he tugged her earlobe into his mouth.

“Oh… god, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Felicity whimpered, her hand sliding over his shoulders, up to the back of his head, pressing him closer. “Oliver…”

He was growing harder, she could feel him, and she knew with just a few movements he could be slipping inside her… Her sex clenched at the thought, at the memory of what it felt like being filled by him, of having him everywhere, taking over everything…

The need that sliced through her chest was powerful, so powerful she cried out, turning her face to his, seeking his lips…

_More, more, more._

She needed him, she _missed_ him, god she missed him, so much, so, so much…

“Oliver…”

“I love you, Felicity,” Oliver whispered. 

At first she didn’t catch it, not over the hard beat of the water hitting the tub, or the blood rushing through her ears, or their heavy pants as they fought for air… 

“I love you.”

_“No, please, don’t do this.”_

_“You did this, Oliver, I told you-”_

_“Felicity, I love you. I love you, is that what you want to hear? I love you, damn it.”_

_“Is that what I want to hear? Are you… No, no that’s not what I want to hear. That’s not a solution, Oliver, that isn’t-”_

_“Felicity…”_

_“No.”_

Hurt pierced through her chest, so fast an hard it felt like it left a gaping hole where her heart was supposed to be.

_I love you._

“Stop,” Felicity croaked, shaking her head rapidly, pushing on his shoulders. “Stop.”

Oliver responded instantly, setting her back down, stumbling back, sending a spray of water all over the place.

They didn’t say anything, they didn’t have to.

It was the same, it was always the same.

The pain was too much, to real, too present… and it always would be, it would never go away, it would never change. 

Nothing would ever change.

Felicity couldn’t look at him as she pulled the shower curtain open, nearly falling out in her haste as she grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself before escaping the bathroom.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/138096867684/youre-using-up-all-the-water)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	33. Spectrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Royalty AU. Prompt - Anonymous: I wish you would write a fic where the Queen family are actual royalty and future king Oliver immediately becomes enamored with a petite, blonde commoner that he spots in crowd.

The first thing he noticed was the soft gold-spun color of her hair, the wild and untamed waves that were barely contained under the wool blanket she had wrapped around her head for warmth.

The second thing was how small she was, especially since she was looking down to fend off the harsh, cold winds whipping through the tiny square, cradling a package against her breast.

The third thing was that the second her shoulder slammed into his, she suddenly reeled around and shoved him back, like she wasn’t just as much a culprit as he was.

“Don’t you _dare_ touch these,” she snapped, moving in like she was going to come after him again. He instantly raised his hands in surrender, finally seeing what she was holding. Books, a handful of frail books. “Or I will…”  


Her words faded the second she saw him - rather, the second she saw the three large guards who instantly circled around him, one already moving to grab her, but Oliver warded them off.

“No,” he said, waving them away, taking a step towards her.  


Books. They didn’t look like anything rare or brand new, anything that would fetch a pretty penny. They were just… books. Obviously well-loved and cherished books, but _books_.

It was… intriguing.

“Are you alright?” he asked.  


But she wasn’t looking at _him,_ she was looking at his family’s crest where it was emblazoned in the center of his chest. 

Her eyes widened, her jaw falling open in shock and horror… just as much as his did, but for an entirely different reason.

She was _stunning…_

… and she was _babbling._ She was talking to him like, well, like he wasn’t who he was and she wasn’t obviously who she was.   


“Oh my… oh _god_ , this is bad, so bad, I almost hit you, I almost _threw_  these at you, and you’re… you’re… the _King_ , and I’m so not someone who should-”  


“No,” he quickly said, shaking his head with a smile. “No, I’m not.”  


“You are, you are,” she said, nodding, her voice growing louder to be heard over the howling wind, a good indicator of the heavy snow storm he’d seen over the horizon that morning. “And I’m not.”  


“You’re not the King?” he repeated with a smile. It didn’t even occur to him that he shouldn’t be talking to her.  


“No,” she instantly replied. “No, I meant… you’re… not me.”  


Oliver raised his eyebrows and her eyes slammed shut.

“Obviously you’re not me, because female, male, that’d be an interesting switch, a switch that wouldn’t even work because you are _huge_ , with the shoulders and the legs and the hips and the _chest_  and oh god, please don’t cut my tongue out.”  


He frowned. “I wouldn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, holding her books tighter, desperation lining her words, and he wanted nothing more than to assure her that _nothing_  would happen to her. “I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t, I couldn’t… lose these and…” She took in a quick breath and for the first time he noticed she was trembling, but not from the cold. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  


“Are you in trouble?” Oliver asked, stepping towards her, and she stepped back, her eyes widening… with fear. “Can I…”

“Felicity!” a male voice shouted, and the woman before him responded like she’d been struck by lightning. She nearly jumped right out of her skin, clutching the books tighter as she spun to face where the voice was coming from. “ _Felicity!_ ”  


“I…” she managed, her eyes flying back to his… and then the sound of a heavy boot step had her crying out before she could stop herself.

“Wait,” Oliver said, but she was already turning, running away, disappearing through the entrance that opened into the larger square. He was already following her, yelling, “No, wait!” but when he reached the doorway, the crowd had swallowed her up.  


She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/138528219904/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-the-queen)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	34. Little Black Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day AU. Prompt - Anonymous: Just a random prompt drive-by: "What about that black dress?"

“What about that black dress?”

Felicity paused, poking her head out of the closet. “What black dress?”

“That one you keep buried back here…”

Oliver stepped into the closet with her, shoving a handful of her clothes out of the way, revealing _the_ black dress. Her stomach sank. How did he even know about that black dress? _She_ didn’t like knowing about it, because it only reminded her that she was a giant idiot, and nobody liked being reminded of being an idiot.

The fact that he was the one pulling it out for her, for her blind date that night, was not helping.

At all.

He picked up the hanger, holding it out to her. “This one.”

“Oh,” she said, staring at it. “That one.”

It was gorgeous, a little cocktail dress that was nearly all lace, with a thin silhouette for modesty’s sake. It was the kind of dress you wore when you really wanted to impress someone, when you really wanted them to know that you dressed up _for_ them… when you really liked someone, basically. And it was the kind of dress you shoved in the back of your closet because that someone was a guy who turned out to only want to hang out as friends, who you bought a dress for thinking you were going out on a date, but it turned out to be the complete opposite when he showed up a few hours early wearing sweats and carrying a few bags of takeout food with a, _“You have Netflix, right?”_

Oliver held it out with a smile. “You asked for a guy’s opinion, I’m giving you a guy’s opinion. This dress will knock him on his ass.”

Felicity took it gingerly, biting her lip, managing a little nod.

It wasn’t pathetic enough that she was going on a blind date on _Valentine’s Day_ , but the man she was secretly in love with and who turned out to be her best friend instead of anything more for the last two years was the one dressing her up for it, practically shoving her into somebody else’s arms.

Her life was _great_.

Oliver smiled, stepping in to give her a chaste kiss on the forehead. She leaned into it, just like she always did, but it never lasted, and this one was no different. He was there one second and gone the next as he said, “I have to get going, I have that thing tonight.”

She could only nod, staring at the dress, as attuned to him as she always was, hearing him grab his keys where he always tossed them in the kitchen before yelling, “Let me know how it goes,” behind him before he left.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Okay.”

This was _his_ dress, she’d bought this dress for him… and he wanted her to wear it for another man.

Felicity took a shaky breath.

Well, if there was ever a way to get over someone, it might as well be with this dress, and those strappy black shoes she had hiding somewhere. It was a dress that would look best with her hair up, which meant she needed to get her butt moving right then and there if she wanted to make it to the restaurant on time.

Part of her wanted to be annoyed that this mystery man that Iris insisted was her soulmate couldn’t even pick her up, but a larger part of her was glad - what if he was a total creeper, a skeezebag, or even worse, _boring_? And she was wasting this dress on him?

 _His_ dress was going to become a skeezebag’s dress, and Oliver had handed it over like it was no big deal.

Because it _wasn’t_ a big deal, not to him, and she really needed to stop making it a big deal, starting right now. She was going to wear this dress, and she was going to look _damn good_ , skeezebag or not.

An hour and a half later, Felicity stepped out of the cab, holding onto her shawl for dear life as she marched her way to the front doors of the restaurant, but that zealous attitude didn’t follow her in when she stepped inside, instantly realizing that something was off.

The entire place was empty.

She froze.

Oh no… no, no, no, she was _not_ going on a first date with some random guy who rented out the _entire_ restaurant.

_No._

She was going to _kill_ Iris.

Soulmate, her ass.

“Felicity Smoak?”

A man stepped forward with a gentle smile, waving her forward.

“Your date is waiting,” he said. “May I take your shawl?”

“Oh no,” Felicity replied, shaking her head with a smile that made her face feel brittle. “No, actually, I have to make a quick call.”

“Alright,” the man said. “Just follow the hallway down when you’re ready.”

“I will do that,” Felicity said, fishing her phone out of her purse. “Thanks.”

She didn’t even have to look at the screen to know which spot to press to hit the number directly tied to Oliver’s phone. She pressed it, peering around the corner as she lifted it to her ear, preparing to quickly tell him to call her in fifteen minutes with an emergency…

His phone rang.

She _heard_ his phone ringing, like…

Felicity frowned, pulling hers back to look at it. The screen was normal, Oliver’s grinning face smiling up at her.

What…?

It rang again, _her_ ringtone on his phone echoing through the restaurant.

The realization smacked her in the face, making her heart _drop_.

She didn’t realize she was moving down the hallway until she saw candlelight… _candles_ , she saw candles everywhere, on every table, making the room _glow_.

Oliver picked up. “Felicity?”

Felicity pulled the phone back up to her ear. “Oliver?”

She stepped into the room… and saw _him_.

He stood in the middle of the space, a small, nervous smile on his lips as he watched her.

_Oliver._

She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Oliver was here, in this restaurant, he was…

 _He_ was her blind date?

“Oh my god,” Felicity breathed, taking a shaky breath.

“Surprise,” Oliver whispered, so softly she could only hear it through the phone line, seeing his lips move and a second later his voice coming through. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh… well…” Felicity said, shaking her head, taking him in. He had on a simple suit that was perfectly cut, the crisp white shirt under the jacket unbuttoned at the neck. “You’re… beautiful, like… wow.”

He gave her a breathy chuckle, licking his lips.

If they hadn’t been on the phone, she wouldn’t have heard his unsteady sigh.

“I thought you had a thing,” Felicity said.

“I do.”

“I’m your thing?” she asked and Oliver’s chuckle was louder this time, reaching her outside the phone line.

He slowly hung up his phone, slipping it back into his pocket… and then he made his way over to her.

Felicity was frozen, so frozen that she didn’t move at all, her hand still holding the phone up to her ear, her other still gripping the shawl in a death grip tight around her. She didn’t dare do anything but breathe as Oliver stopped in front of her, and she could barely do that when he reached up, pulling the phone out of her grasp. He shut it off, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I was actually… wondering…” he said, picking up her tiny purse, slipping her phone back inside. He sighed again, and when she heard how unsure he was, it made her heart skip a beat. “If you’d like to have dinner with me?”

 _Dinner_.

Dinner with Oliver.

Like… _dinner_.

She said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve been waiting to have dinner with you for two years, Oliver.”

“I’ve been waiting for three years,” he replied. Felicity frowned and he stepped closer, cupping her face. Her eyes fluttered shut for a split second, her heart stuttering to a stop when she felt his fingers shaking. “And I asked you out in such an ass-backwards way that I didn’t know if you knew I meant an actual date… so I just came over…”

“I remember,” Felicity replied with a little laugh.

“You were the first girl I’d ever met that made me that nervous, that made me want to say the right thing, every single time, and the one time I said something, I messed it up so bad that I freaked out…” He shook his head. “And proceeded to do nothing about it.” Oliver stared at her. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Felicity… and if that…”

“Oliver,” Felicity breathed, and then she stepped forward, cutting him off with a kiss… a kiss that took her breath away, especially when he kissed her back, sliding his hand into her hair, making her shiver. When they finally pulled back to take a breath, she whispered, “Whoa.”

He grinned, pressing his forehead to hers. “Is that a good whoa?”

Felicity nodded with a, “Very good,” and then she kissed him again, holding him tighter.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/139338698544/just-a-random-prompt-drive-by-what-about-that)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	35. Best Sunday Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU. Prompt - miss-lyrical-leftie: Prompt: Olicity Netflix and chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I flipped this one on its head because apparently cuddles are more important in my head right now.

  


The mid-winter sun slanted through the curtains, sneaking through the open cracks, lighting up the dark room. His eyes were riveted on the screen, watching with rapt attention the third season finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Felicity dozed in his arms - she’d already seen it seven times. They’d just finished shoveling their way through the third season all weekend, nonstop, and completing Oliver’s not-so-subtle obsession with Buffy and Angel. She deserved a nap, darn it, because getting him to watch it all had been a trial in and of itself.

He was wrapped around her, his head propped on his hand so he could see over hers. Their feet were tangled together and the comforter was cocooning them perfectly. She was content to never move, not ever again, as long as she had her boyfriend, her bed and her Netflix. More specifically her now Buffy-obsessed boyfriend.

She made a mental note to remind him he owed her twenty bucks.

_“I thought you knew where I landed when it comes to vampires. I’m not watching a show with the actual word ‘vampire’ in the title, Felicity.”_

He jumped every few seconds, making a little noise, as the gang defeated Mayor Wilkins. She could watch it in her mind’s eye as it played out on her screen, and since he’d already chastised her about giving important things away when she turned to look at him while watching it…

_“I like seeing people’s reactions, it makes it feel like I’m watching it all over again.”_

_“Well, knock it off, I know when something huge is coming up because you always swing around to look at me.”_

… she’d resorted to keeping herself still in order to feel him reacting instead.

Oliver sighed, a soft, “Oh,” and she knew it was the scene where Buffy was seeing Angel for the last time. Felicity bit her lip to keep her smile at bay when his arm wrapped around her waist tightened a bit, holding her closer, his head dipping down so his lips were pressed to her hair.

Her boyfriend was a Buffy/Angel ‘shipper.

It was the cutest thing _ever_.

As the episode came to a close, Felicity shifted, pressing herself closer to him and Oliver took a deep breath. As he let it out, he melted against her and Felicity reciprocated, running her toe over the heel of his foot, smiling.

He was a quiet watcher, Oliver Queen. He had to process and think about what he’d just watched before he could indulge her in her rapid-fire thoughts, and her thoughts were especially fast when it came to Buffy. She’d learned that after the first few episodes, and it was usually in the middle of the next season that he got his thoughts in order and it came out in random questions over breakfast or in the middle of the night. 

When she’d first met Oliver, her first thought had been: this guy is trouble because he’s got heartbreak written all over him. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought: this guy is trouble because he enjoys the same OTP as her.

“I now know where you get ‘fire bad, tree pretty’,” he whispered.

Felicity giggled. “Buffy gets me.”

Neither of them moved as the credits rolled. Joss Whedon’s, ‘Grr, Argh,’ played before Netflix queued up the next episode… and they still didn’t move.

It was Sunday, and it was late on a Sunday afternoon at that, Felicity knew they should move at _some_ point, because classes didn’t stop for Buffy, no matter how much she thought they should… but they didn’t move.

As season four started, Felicity turned in his arms. Oliver propped himself up again, his eyes on the screen and she pulled her leg up, hooking it over his hip, pressing a soft kiss to his pulse point.

“Chinese after this one?”

“Mmhmm,” he agreed absently, nodding.

Felicity grinned, craning her neck to give him a proper kiss. He barely returned it at first, already lost in Buffy’s first day as a freshman, but then a second later he smiled, and kissed her properly.

Best. Sunday. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/140176938774/1-your-fics-are-good-smut-1010-would)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	36. Valentine's Day Gym Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day AU. Prompt - Anonymous: Hi Bre! I'm a huge fan of your writing -- honestly, you're one of my favorite authors! So, I have a prompt based on Emily's gym pics... AU Olicity meeting at a gym... Oliver notices her when she's doing squats. Or just anything where Oliver gets distracted by Felicity's ass lol

“The burn is real!”

The words echoed through the empty gym just as Oliver left the men’s locker room. He paused, furrowing his brow at the ridiculous words, a smile tugging at his lips as it was quickly followed up with a…

“Send help!”  


Oliver made his way to the main floor, peering around the corner to see who was talking - it was _her_. 

His heart skipped a beat or two, slamming into his chest plate with an alacrity that sent adrenaline flooding his veins. It’d started out so simple: she always wore tight, _tight_  pants, usually compression pants that highlighted the very fine, very high and very firm curve of her ass and thighs. He wasn’t the only one who noticed and he knew he wouldn’t be the last - the woman spent most of her time doing squats and lunges and it showed. But he never did anything about it because being an ogling jerk was a reputation he’d been trying to abandon since he came back to Star City… but she hadn’t made it easy, not at all.

And it didn’t help in the damn least that she was so painfully adorable, that she had a grin that lit up the entire room, and that she made him _smile_  at the most ridiculous things, whether it was her making faces at herself in the mirror as she lifted or talking to herself as she stretched.

He was trying to be single for a while.

 _Trying_.

She wasn’t the typical woman he went after… that was what he told himself, over and over, as the weeks passed, as he kept seeing her and started noticing everything else about her, besides her amazing physique.

As he started developing a slight crush on her.

 _Slight_  crush.

Curtis, the night manager and usually the only one working past ten most nights, was holding a bright purple phone, and he was chuckling as he pointed it at the small blonde currently sitting on the floor hanging on a bar, making grabby hands at the mirror. 

After a few more seconds, Curtis dropped the phone and she collapsed.

“Get it?” the woman asked - _Felicity_ , her name was Felicity, and he only knew that because he’d heard someone talking to her once.   


“Another masterpiece I’m sure Laurel will enjoy,” Curtis replied 

“She had a hot date tonight, I need her to feel a little guilty for not being here,” Felicity said as she fell over, taking a deep breath. “I can’t get up.”  


“I clean this floor every single night, and even I wouldn’t be laying on it.”  


“I wasn’t exaggerating about the burn, Curtis,” Felicity said, flopping an arm at him. “I think I broke my muscles. My muscles are broken. It’s like I wanted to punish myself for being the only one here on Valentine’s Day.”  


“ _I’m_  here.”  


“You’re married, you don’t get to wallow in my single’s patheticness.”

His heart jumped again, and his mouth went dry.

_She was single._

He was moving before he could think twice.

“Can I join you in that single’s patheticness?” Oliver asked, stepping out from around the corner. 

“Gah!” Felicity yelped, sitting up too fast, narrowly missing bashing her forehead into the bar she’d just been hanging on. She grabbed onto it, pushing herself up. “Wow. Hi.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Oliver said, making his way over. 

She shook her head, making a face. “No, no, you’re fine. Very fine, in fact.” Her eyes unwittingly dropped down the length of his body when she said that. A warm pleasurable zing shot through him - he worked hard to look the way he did, and he’d by lying to himself if he hadn’t wondered if she’d noticed him just as much as he’d noticed her. As if she was three seconds behind on everything, her words caught up with her and her eyes flew up to his face. “Not _fine_ , like I’m checking you out _fine_. You are very fine like that, and I’m having a hard time believing that you’re single because you…” She shook her head. “No, I don’t… think I should finish that thought. I meant fine as in it’s fine for you to be… fine. Here… Working. Out. With me. Not _with_ me, but… with me. Here.”  


Oliver could only smile. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she waved her hands, scrunching her nose up adorably, her face turning a delicate light pink that left her flushed.

“And I’m done talking, in three, two, one…”  


“You’re definitely taking pathetic to a whole new level, Felicity,” Curtis murmured, handing her phone back to her. 

“Don’t I know it,” Felicity whispered, and if Oliver wasn’t mistaken, her hands shook a little.  


Curtis clapped Oliver’s shoulder as he passed with a, “Hey, Oliver.”  


Oliver nodded his greeting, his eyes leaving her for barely a split second to look at the other man, but even that was too long. 

Now that he’d actually spoken to her, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to hear more, whether it was her babbling about how fine he looked or counting backwards or reciting the alphabet… he didn’t care.

He just wanted _more_.

“Well, I’m gonna go shower this mortification off,” Felicity said, pointing at herself, giving him a too-wide smile that made her look so cute it hurt. She pointed at him before turning it into a wave before saying, “You have a good night. I’m gonna… go. Die.”  


She swept past him, and he almost let her go.

 _Almost_.

The second he heard, “Of course the guy who makes you forget how to breathe is the guy who’s here on Valentine’s Day. As if I wasn’t…” from her, he moved.

“Wait,” Oliver said, jogging after her. She stopped abruptly, turning too fast, her eyes wide. He grinned, and it was his turn for his hands to shake a little bit as he asked, “Would you, maybe… like to go out? For dinner? Or coffee, or…?”  


“Go out?” she repeated, and her cheeks flushed _deliciously_  as the words caught up. Her jaw dropped her. “Like a date?”  


Oliver laughed, and if it sounded a little like he’d eaten a squeaker toy, he ignored it. What was _wrong_  with him?

“Yes,” he replied. “A date. With me.”

“Like… right now?”  


His stomach positively dropped - even though he’d been the one to ask, that she was standing there and even entertaining it was enough to make his heart climb up into his throat.

Usually talking to the girl he liked got _easier_  once he started, it wasn’t supposed to make him want to close his eyes because looking at her made him so stupidly nervous it felt like butterflies were eating the lining of his stomach.

He didn’t realize he liked her _that_  much, not until he started talking to her. He wanted to simultaneously run away and keep going.

She was waiting.

_“Like… right now?”_   


"Sure,” he answered. Her eyes widened even more and he immediately backtracked. “Or not. Maybe? No, not now. Unless you want to?”  


“I was just… I mean, I’m really sweaty right now.” She winced. “And i can’t believe I just said that to you, I’m so sorry. That’s not very cute, is it, me highlighting the fact that I sweat a lot. And I’m so not making it any better, wow.”  


He chuckled and she blushed even more. His fingers actually itched to touch her.

“I would love to, tonight, if you want to,” Oliver said. “Sweaty or not, I’m there.”  


Felicity laughed, pressing her hand to her eyes before pushing her fingers through her sweat-damped hair. She took a deep breath, and when she raised her pinkie slightly, he saw it was trembling.

Was she as nervous as he felt?

“Okay,” she finally replied, grinning.

“Yeah?”   


“Yeah,” Felicity said, laughing again. She shook her head, almost in wonder. “And here I thought this was gonna be another lame Valentine’s Day, with just me and the ol’ gym ball and chain.”

“Hey,” Curtis threw in half-heartedly.

Oliver grinned.

“Can I take a shower first?” Felicity asked. “Unless, you don’t want to tonight, which I would totally understand because it is Valentine’s Day, and wow, talk about a lot of pressure.”  


“No, I want to,” Oliver interrupted. “Tonight. If you do.”  


“I do. Want to. Tonight.” Felicity closed her eyes. “I’ll also stop talking in sentence fragments at some point, I swear.”  


“I’m not doing much better,” Oliver said and she gave him another laugh. “I’ll go change too, and wait for you out here.”  


For a split second, she just stared at him, her eyes wide and luminous and _beautiful_. Felicity had said yes, she’d said yes to going out with him, he was going on a date with Felicity.

 _Wow_.

“Okay,” she said softly, pressing her lips together, like she was fighting a smile. “I won’t be long.”  


“Take your time.”  


Oliver watched her go. When she reached the corner where she’d disappear towards the locker rooms, she paused, her hand touching the wall… and then she looked back. 

Their eyes met over the expanse of the gym floor, and they both grinned at the same time, both of them ducking their heads before she turned away again. Oliver turned away, staring at the ground with a huge smile on his face, looking up to find Curtis staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a grin all his own.

“What?” Oliver asked.  


“Nothing,” Curtis said, raising his hands. “Just thinking about how great this story will be to tell at your wedding.”  


(And tell it at their wedding he did, two years later.)

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/140179608449/hi-bre-im-a-huge-fan-of-your-writing)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	37. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Prompt - Imagine person A lightly tracing “I love you” over and over again on person B’s back, assuming that person B is asleep. When person A is lying on their back, getting ready to sleep, person B moves closer and wraps their arms around person A, whispering softly, “I love you too.” Bonus if that’s the first time person A has ever declared their love for person B. (via @otpprompts)

His fingertip dragged over her back. She didn’t react, barely moving past her deep, even breaths as she slept. The slight movement caught the light coming from the lamp on her nightstand, changing the shadows that played across her skin with each breath.   


Oliver’s eyes danced over her, his fingers following, from the cluster of freckles near her spine to the small birthmark on her shoulder to the little scar she had yet to tell him about. She was soft, warm, still holding the glow of their lovemaking.

It was late and exhaustion pulled at his bones, but Oliver ignored it. 

He hated the nights when she worked late and he had to get up early, when they only got a few hours together. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough, but he would be damned if he was going to waste the few precious moments they did manage to steal. 

He never did, and he never would.

A tiny snore slipped past her lips, pulling him from his thoughts. 

Oliver smiled.

It’d only been two months, but he already knew. 

He’d known it for a long time actually, since their first date, since she came upstairs and they talked until they both fell asleep. When she’d asked him out, when he’d said yes before she could even get the words out, he’d known. When he’d woken up to her curled up against his side on the couch, makeup smudged and her fingers curled in the collar of his shirt, he’d known.

The only reason he stopped himself from saying it now was because it felt too soon. He’d never been with someone like this, never felt like this before, never felt this _strongly_  before - he’d _never_ felt this bone-deep certainty that this was it… that _she_ was it.

She was the one. 

He was going to marry this woman.   


Oliver’s heart fluttered, his stomach clenching with anticipation, with excitement.

She was it.

Oliver slid his fingertip up her back again… and he slowly started writing, spelling out the words he didn’t quite have the wherewithal to say, not yet. He wanted to tell her - he wanted to shout it from the goddamn rooftops - but he always paused right when the words were on the tip of his tongue. Maybe it was fear… no, it was definitely fear. It was an irrational and ridiculous fear, and some logical part of him knew that, but it was still there.

_What if…_

So… he did this instead.

_‘I love you.’_   


Over and over he spelled it out, across her back, until the muscles in his arm started to burn, until she suddenly took a deep breath, her back moving under his touch.

A bolt of panic shot right through his chest and Oliver froze. His heart leapt into his throat, his eyes flying up to see if he’d woken her…

But she just sighed, settling in again.

She didn’t move.

After a second, Oliver closed his eyes with a little huff - he was being _ridiculous._ He laid his hand on her back and when she still didn’t move, he leaned over, pressing a chaste kiss to her shoulder blade. 

A brush of goosebumps erupted across the surface of her skin, starting right where his lips had touched her.

Oliver smiled, kissing her again. The words were front and center in his mind and he pressed them into her with his lips, feeling them, _knowing_ that he loved her with every ounce of his being.

He turned the light out and settled in next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, pressing the full length of his body against hers, something deep inside him yearning towards her, like there were missing pieces and she held them, when she moved. 

Felicity shifted with a quiet groan, turning until she faced him. She hummed, digging her face into his chest, cuddling against him and Oliver wrapped her up, kissing the top of her head, pulling her closer…

She pressed a kiss right over his heart and whispered, “I love you too.”   


Oliver stopped breathing, his eyes flying open. 

She’d felt it, she’d been awake, she _knew_ … and she loved him.

_She loved him_.

Oliver took a slow breath, his mind and heart racing, working simultaneously to catch up with the fact that she… _she loved him_. He let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.

Felicity grinned, turning her face up to his. Her nose brushed against his chin, followed by her lips and when he looked down at her, she pressed her lips to his.   


“I love you, Oliver Queen.”

Oliver grinned, elation filling his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered before he kissed her. It was a kiss so tender it made his chest ache, and it slowly grew into more, so much more.

He made love to her, expressing with his body all the times he hadn’t said the words before, and she didn’t waste a single second, whispering them back, over and over, making sure he knewshe loved him, just as surely as he loved her, their love for each other cocooning them in pure bliss.

Oh yes, he was going to marry her.

(And he did.)

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/141495412039/ficlet-i-love-you-olicity-au)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	38. April Fool's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Oliver and Felicity are best friends when Oliver goes on the Gambit. This is when they see each other after he gets back.

One year, Oliver taped the handle down of the water sprayer on her kitchen sink. (It soaked her right before an important interview.) Another year she poured honey on the door handles to his prized Porsche. (He was at a ‘friend’s’ house and didn’t touch the car for a few days. When he got back, the handles had completely dried shut.) Another year they both got each other when Felicity switched all his furniture out for lawn chairs (it took him three days to find his couch) and he replaced her underwear with crotchless ones (she’d made sure to hide them throughout his apartment, much to the chagrin of the girls he brought home because he never found them all).

They were relentless, upping the ante each time, from him saran wrapping her toilet seat (she had a guy over and he came in to her running around with pee all over as she tried to rip the plastic off) to her putting Nair in his hair gel (it fell out in tiny tufts all day, leading to him rushing to his doctor who took one look and asked him if he was aware what day it was).

One year, Felicity confessed something - she’d never had a guy eat her out. After Oliver’s jaw dropped, his face turning about twenty different shades of red, she asked him if he would be her first. (“Uh, well.., I mean…” She laughed. “Oh come on, you don’t actually believe that, do you? Trust me, Cooper was good at it. April Fool’s! To the eating me out part, not the Cooper part. Because that did happen and he was… damn it, that kinda backfired on me.” She was trying to get past her developing feelings for him, not realizing he felt the same way, not realizing he’d been about to tell her to wait until tomorrow for his answer so she’d know he was serious when he asked her out.)

The next year, he really did ask her out. (She didn’t tell him her stomach dropped or that her heart took off or that she stopped breathing when he said, “Ha, April Fool’s!” He said he’d asked because she hadn’t been on a date in a year. She didn’t tell him it was because she was in love with him.)

And then…

Oliver went on a trip with his father, and their yacht went down in the North China Sea.

It was April 1st when the news reached Starling City. 

Felicity sat in front of the television all night, her hand on the screen, tracing his smiling face as she whispered, “Please be here, Oliver, please. Please, please, please… Please let this be a dumb joke, a really bad, bad joke, but a joke. Please, please… I won’t even be mad this is fake, I just… I want you here. Please.”

_I love you._

He didn’t come back.

A week later, a voicemail popped up on her phone, from Oliver, saved from March 31 at 11:59:13… “I can’t believe you couldn’t come out here with me, you’d be losing your shit on this storm. I’d have to wrap my hand up in bandages because those freaky nails of yours would make me bleed, like that thunderstorm up in the mountains. Remember the poison ivy? Anyway, I’m just calling to say I miss you and that I’ll call you when we get there. And… and I wanted to ask you something, something I was gonna ask out here - but someone flaked on me - but it’s almost April 1st, and I want you to know… I want you to know that I’m serious, so I’ll save my question for when I see you again. Anyway, I’ll call you when we hit land. Don’t get too crazy while I’m gone. Bye, Felicity.”

It crippled her, because some part of her knew, had always known, and now they’d never get their chance.

For five year, he was really gone.

But then he came back.

On April 1st.

The second she heard Moira’s tears-ridden, “He’s back. Felicity, he’s back,” she was out the door.

Felicity barely remembered calling Moira back for the hospital, barely remembered her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel or the rush of blood in her ears or that she’d bitten her tongue so hard it made her bleed.

The first thing she remembered clearly, so crystal clear it was like looking through a television screen in her mind, was the first time she saw him again.

It was late, the sky was dark, the city skyline lighting up the world outside his window… and there he was. He was taller somehow, and bigger, more stark and hard and uneven in ways she couldn’t put her finger on and her first thought was how in the world he looked so much like her Oliver but something told her he wasn’t, that he was different.

_Changed._

But then he looked at her, and none of it mattered, because it was _him_.

His face softened, and her heart skipped about twenty dozen beats as she stood at the door to his room, gripping the handle so hard it hurt.

“Is this…” Felicity started before she stopped. Tears blurred him and she blinked them away, swallowing past her heart in her throat. “Is this another April Fool’s joke?”

The most beautiful smile she’d ever seen in her life split his face, and she knew - _she knew_ \- he hadn’t smiled like that in a long, long time.

A sob slipped past her lips.

Oliver shook his head. “No.”

Felicity launched herself at him. He met her halfway, catching her in his arms, hugging her close, lifting her right off her feet as she wrapped herself around him. He was bigger, so much bigger, and he was so _hard_ , so much so that it was alarming… but it was her Oliver, it was him.

He was back.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Oliver set her down, until he cupped her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“I thought about you every single day,” he whispered, his voice cracking with an emotion she felt in her bones.

Felicity nodded, her face crumpling. “Oliver, I…”

He cut her off, his lips covering hers.

It would be their first and last kiss for a long time… because he came back with a mission, a mission that included pushing her away until she found him bleeding in the backseat of her car after his mother had shot him… a mission that grew to include her.

It took him three more years to finally ask the question he promised in his voicemail.

And she said yes.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/142072079824/olicity-ficlet-april-fools-au)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	39. Eventually Is Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future Fic. Oliver finds out Felicity is pregnant. (Based on [this epic tweet](https://twitter.com/amellxwood/status/718212973941153793?lang=en).)

Felicity chewed on her bottom lip, gnawing on it, barely wincing when it started to burn. She tasted old lipstick and remnants of the coffee she’d been drinking right before she didn’t lift her foot high enough - she didn’t just plant her face on the ground, she also twisted the hell out of her ankle as she thudded down the rest of the stairs in what was going to go down as the Most Graceful Move Ever.

 _Distracted_.

That’d been her first thought, because that’s what she’d been for the last couple of weeks:  _distracted_. She’d assumed it was just because of the new big bad that’d swept into town, nearly taking down half the Glades in one night. That was  _distracting_ , and it was a worthy thing to blame for her distraction… it didn’t matter that that distraction included putting her skirt on backwards one day, grabbing the wrong papers before a meeting on another, talking about a completely different project with Curtis when he’d clearly been talking about something else, and remembering that the step she was about to take wasn’t just a mere inch off the ground.

Except now she knew it wasn’t just a distraction.

 _Wow_. A lot of wow, a little side of terror… and a heaping side of excitement. That was the more surprising part, the fact that the second the doctor had said the words, her heart had nearly leapt out of her chest with pure, unadulterated _joy_. They hadn’t talked about it, they hadn’t planned it; it’d always been a thing that was on the horizon, something they’d get to eventually.

Apparently eventually was _now_.

Her door flew open.

Tears were filling her eyes before she knew what she was doing.

“Felicity,” Oliver breathed, his eyes instantly flying over her as he made his way to her. They paused on her foot, which was already wrapped in a boot, propped up on a pillow. “Oh…” They reached for each other at the same time, their fingers interlacing as he took the rest of her in. “Are you okay?”

“I’m completely okay,” Felicity replied, her voice cracking and when he heard it, his eyes flew to her face. Alarm colored his and she shook her head, laughing, although it came out in a choked sound that definitely didn’t _sound_ okay. “I’m really okay, I swear. I just, um…”

“Did something happen, did someone…”

“No,” Felicity said. “No, no, that… no, it's…” She took a deep breath and she looked up at him. She tried to keep the grin off her face, tried to be cool, calm and collected, but she couldn’t, and it only made the confusion on his face grow. “Oliver… I’m pregnant.”

For a split second, time stopped. Everything was suspended as the news hit him, as he blinked, as he tried to _hear_ what she was saying, tried to _understand_ …

And then it hit him.

His face crumpled, tears making his eyes glassy as he let out a little laugh, a grin transforming his face in a way that made her own joy quadruple.

“We're… we’re gonna have a baby?” he asked. His lower lip was trembling, his chest moving with quick breaths. Felicity nodded and he laughed again, looking down at her stomach before looking at her. “We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” Felicity confirmed, nodding rapidly.

Oliver gasped, a soft, “Oh my god,” slipping out before he cupped her face and kissed her with everything he had. Felicity laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, kissing him back with vehemence before their grinning got in the way. He pulled back and _god_ , his smile was so big, so gorgeous. _He was so happy._ “You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” Felicity said. “Yeah, they…” She wiped her face; she was practically sobbing. “They took my blood, probably to make sure I wasn’t completely drunk when I fell, and…”

"And you’re okay, everything else is okay?”

“Everything is great.” Felicity grinned, cupping his face, staring up at him, at the man she loved with every fiber of her being. This was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with, the man who was going to be the father of her children. (She didn’t even pause when she didn’t say _child_ , but _children_.) “Everything’s perfect.”

“I love you,” Oliver whispered, kissing her again. One hand floated down, covering her stomach, and she just about melted right then and there. “I love you so much.”

They kissed, again and again, laughing and crying at the same time, their joy filling the room, so much so that when the doctor poked her head in she stepped back out, giving them privacy.

Several minutes later, they finally pulled away from each other, but they didn’t let go, their fingers staying interlaced the entire time. When she was discharged, Oliver picked her up out of bed and set her in the wheelchair, and when they reached the curb, he picked her up again despite her protests. It was so gallant and sweet and admittedly hot as absolute hell, and she was already dreaming about ripping that shirt of his off, until…

"No more heels,” Oliver said.

Felicity snorted. “Yeah, okay, that’s happening.”

“You just twisted your ankle, Felicity.”

“Exactly. _Twisted_. It’s not broken.”

Oliver sighed, shaking his head. “We’ll talk when we get home.”

“Yes, we’ll talk about which heels match this lovely new boot, daddy.” Felicity made a face. “Okay, that sounded way cuter in my head.”

Oliver laughed, reaching over from the driver’s side. He smoothed her hair back, brushing it off her cheek before leaning over to kiss her.

“I love you.”

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/142464115744/eventually-is-now-olicity-future-ficlet)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	40. Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Oliver and Felicity put away laundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ficlet inspired by [this post](http://carolinesalvatore.tumblr.com/post/158419725400/i-would-literally-rather-watch-my-otp-do-laundry), which says: i would literally rather watch my otp do laundry together than suffer through some inorganic, pointless, dramatic bullshit.

“No, fold those ones.”  


Felicity glanced back. “What?”

Oliver nodded his head to the t-shirt hanging on the hanger in her hand. “We don’t have enough hangers to hang every single shirt.”

“Or,” Felicity said, shaking the shirt. “The dirty to clean ratio is so even that we don’t need to worry about folding.”  


He couldn’t hide the amused smirk that pulled his lips as he finished folding a pair of her sweats. “You just don’t like folding.”

“Not true,” she replied, stepping out of the closet, hanger still in hand. She pointed it at the bed. “I folded those ones.”  


“These ones?” Oliver asked, leaning over the bed to grab the pile he knew she was referring to. He didn’t bother being gentle as he picked them up because he’d already planned on refolding them. Mock outrage colored her face as the precarious folding job she’d managed fell to pieces. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “This is not how you fold shirts, Felicity.”  


“Oh,” Felicity said dramatically, “there’s a right way, is there?” She sidled up next to him, dropping the hanger on the bed before putting her hands on her hips. “Well then, by all means, show me the ‘right way’ to fold shirts.”

“Alright.” Oliver dropped the pile of clothes and picked up one of his. He went through the motions, draping it over his chest, folding the sleeves in at perfect angles before flipping the bottom and folding the lower half up so he ended up with a neat little square. With a little grin, he presented it to her. “There.”  


Felicity scoffed. “Okay, one, this isn’t a department store,” she said, wiggling her finger at him. “And two, I can do that just as well.” 

She grabbed a t-shirt and started imitating his movements, draping it on her chest. Oliver didn’t let her get far though. When she folded the first sleeve, he actually _tsked_  at her before straightening it. She slapped his hand away before folding the other half, which he _also_  corrected.

“Oliver!” she snapped, slapping the back of her hand against his chest. He laughed, dodging away, and as she went on to fold the bottom bit - really, _who does that?_  - he stepped up behind her and tried to “show her” how to do it. She pushed her shoulder back into him, knocking him away before finishing it up. It wasn’t _perfect_ , but it was damn good. And also way too much effort to put into _folding a t-shirt_. She held it out with a, “See, just as good.”  


He barely looked at it. “It’s wrinkled.”  


“It’s a t-shirt.”  


“That doesn’t change that it’s wrinkled.”  


Felicity narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll show you wrinkled.” 

Without warning she threw the t-shirt at his face before grabbing the piles he’d just folded and tossing them up in the air over the bed. Oliver made a strangled little noise, his jaw dropping, half-moving to catch them. He changed his mind at the last second, though, turning a faux-glare on her instead.

Despite herself, Felicity giggled, knowing exactly what that look meant. She took a stuttered step back, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. The move did nothing to hide the grin on her face, which only made Oliver shake his head.

He barely got out, “I’m going to-” before she turned, running out of the room, her laughter trailing behind her, quickly followed by the sound of Oliver’s bare feet hitting the floor as he chased after her.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/158489392434/carolinesalvatore-i-would-literally-rather-watch)


	41. Faraway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire AU. Oliver is The Arrow, Felicity is a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written strictly for last year's SOTY voting. I wanted to write something to encourage voting and I wanted to challenge myself to write and post without thinking too much, as I tend to do. And, because I'm an unoriginal noob, this was inspired by one of my favorite Buffy/Angel fics of all time - [Domestication](http://peaches.indiefic.com/domestication/index.html) by indiefic (one of the best writers _ever_ \- no, I mean it). 
> 
> I wanted to eventually clean these up and make it more, you know, unique, and add more before posting but since all my writing attention is on Blood Hands at the moment (and then hopefully the tattoo AU after that, along with Soul Shine as well as working with Janis on the FICoN sequels), I figured I might as well get it up! Because why not! And because it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and I can always repost later!
> 
> I'm posting each mini-installment in the original eleven parts I wrote them in, so any and all mistakes are mine, including any continuity issues.

1.

Felicity tapped her fingers on the counter, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She angled her head, trying to see through the thin mesh gate to the other side, but Roy was nowhere to be found. God, she hoped they hadn’t sent her supply back. She was late, but she wasn’t _that_ late.

“Roy…” she whispered. “Hurry up.”

She’d gone too long again. The deep pangs of hunger had gotten easier to ignore over the years, especially when she wore the numbing cream, but when she went too long… it wasn’t _just_ hunger pangs anymore.

It was a thin burning along every single nerve; a fine tremor in her muscles that slowly got worse, making her shake; a sharp stabbing pain in her chest, one that cut through her like a rusty serrated knife. And the urge to drop her fangs… god, it was _overwhelming_. Felicity could barely remember what it was like before she’d been brought into Starling City, but she did remember the relief that came when she was about to feed. The only thing stopping her was the promise of pain from the chip implanted in her neck.

Any vampire who bared their fangs was immediately put to death - it was a privilege to live among the living, and as a courtesy to those granted access to such privilege, every vampire was given what was basically a shock collar. And it literally did shock. Whenever a vampire wandered outside of their designated route - they were only allowed three basic destinations: home, work and feeding stations - or when they bared their fangs or when someone with a special remote was nearby who was displeased with their performance, they got a shock.

It _hurt_ , to the point it usually knocked you out.

So, Felicity bounced on her feet, tapping her fingers, praying to the Google gods that Roy _hurried the hell up_.

He finally rounded the corner, carrying her tote. The supply was small, too small for real sustenance, but it was enough. Especially right now. If she wasn’t careful she was going to eat everything in there and then she’d be screwed until next week. She took a steadying breath, but it only made the burn worse.

She was _starving_.

“Jeez. You look like death, blondie.”

“You’re hilarious,” Felicity replied. She held her hand out, wiggling her fingers. “Can I…”  

Roy handed her the bag, careful to keep his fingers clear of her as she snatched it. They were friends, but only as friendly as a vampire and a human could be. He especially knew the danger Felicity constantly put herself in because she never left work in time to get there before the designated close time for all feeding stops.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Felicity,” he said grimly.

“I know,” Felicity acknowledged. She kept the bag closed, because she knew the second she opened it… The numbing cream she used for her senses - especially her sense of smell - faded by the end of the day, and she didn’t trust herself. She smiled at him. “Thanks for staying open for me.”

“Just call me, okay?” Roy said bluntly. “You know I live here, I can wait up for you.”

“I would be totally okay with that if it wasn’t super illegal.”

“I’d rather risk getting a fine instead of finding out you got staked because you waited too long.” Roy leveled her with a heavy look. “Okay?”

Felicity stared at him, and for a quick second, the hunger abated as the reality of what he was saying washed over her. He cared for her, he cared about her fate… and that was _huge_. Vampires were nothing more than work fuel in society, there only because they behaved themselves, allowed only because they did the sort of jobs that humans didn’t want to do. They were well-controlled, invisible, and it was an off day when they interacted with anyone, especially humans.

Except for Roy.

He was her friend. And she was so grateful.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Roy replied with a solemn nod.

Felicity gave him a shaky smile before turning. 

Clutching the bag to her chest, she hurried home.

2.

The sound of bodies colliding had him sprinting across the roof. It was a heavy, dull thud sound that resonated up from the alley a block over, quickly followed by a surprised gasp and a growl.

“Shit,” Oliver whispered.

He knew that sound, as intimately as he knew the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

_Vampire._

He hopped over to the next building, grabbing the fire escape with zero finesse. The metal clanged loudly, echoing through the night, but he didn’t care. It was one thing he actually liked about Starling City - the vampires were kept at near-starving levels here, to the point where they were damn-near gaunt, which meant when they finally snapped, the only thing they cared about was feeding. They were easier to kill, because they didn’t stop to protect themselves.

Oliver sprinted over the roof of the building and paused at the other end, looking down just in time to see a large shadow picking up a smaller one and throwing it across the small alley. The small one hit the dumpster with a sharp cry of pain. It was a woman, a vampire, if the simple light grey clothes she was wearing was any indication. She was cradling something against her chest as she scrambled to her feet, trying to get away, but the other vampire was relentless. He moved faster than he should be able to if he was on any sort of rations and sunk his fingers into the woman’s hair, yanking her back. The woman was obviously underfed, the status of most vampires in the city, but the other one… he was a Rogue, one of the few who’d dug out their chip and survived, which meant he could kill and feed as often as he wanted.

And he was going to kill her.

Oliver moved, leaping off the building, grabbing an outcrop on the brick wall before launching himself across to the other side, bouncing between the walls until he landed on the ground.

Later, when he looked back on this moment, he would realize it wasn’t because he’d learned in the last five years that there were some vampires who didn’t deserve to die, who were victims as much as the humans who fell at the mercy of the truly evil of their own breed… No. It was because something instinctual rose up in him at the sight of the hulk of a man moving to tear the woman’s throat out, to take her supply, to leave her to bleed to death in this alley.

The instant his feet hit the ground, Oliver had an arrow nocked. He didn’t give any warning, he didn’t need to. This vampire was dangerous, a killer. Killing - human or vampire - was one thing Oliver refused to tolerate in his city. The second he pulled the string back, he let the arrow loose. It flew through the air with a soft whistle. The vampire heard it, instantly dropping the woman, but he wasn’t fast enough. The arrow embedded itself in his back, with enough force behind it that it pierced all the way through to his heart.

With an enraged growl, he turned, his eyes burning a bright, primordial yellow before he burst into dust.

The dust was still dancing in the air when the woman on the ground scurried away from him. The bag was still clutched to her chest, so hard it was a miracle the bags of blood inside didn’t burst. Her clothes were torn and dirty and there was a long bloody gash evident in the side of her neck - the other vampire had tried to bite her, Oliver realized. She didn’t stop until her back slammed into a dumpster.

Oliver could barely see her in the darkness save for a flash of blonde hair and a bare glimpse of the yellow in her eyes where the moon caught them. Definitely a vampire… but _she_ was terrified. Of _him_.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered, taking a step towards her.

“No!” she growled, throwing her hand up to stop him. She was shaking, viciously. Her eyes slammed shut and she tried to take a steadying breath, but the instant she did, she _screamed_.

He immediately knew it was the chip in her neck, and that it was shocking her, which meant her fangs were dropping.

She didn’t give him time to react though.

Her hand slapped over her mouth and she shoved herself up off the dumpster. The metal screeched against the brick wall and, barely keeping her grip on her supply bag, she pushed herself off of it with enough force to make it dent as she took off in the other direction.

3.

It hit her the second the elevator doors opened.

_Him._

It was him. It was the man in green, the guy who ran around the city shooting arrows. The man who’d saved her last night, the man who’d killed the son of a bitch attacking her for her damn blood supply… the man who she very nearly attacked when she caught his scent on the air. She’d almost pushed through the horrifying pain of her stupid chip to throw herself at him, just to get a _taste_.

His scent came at her in waves.

The leather was gone, but that fact only amplified his natural scent even more. He smelled earthy, a rich mixture of clean soap, hints of that leather and a soft musk that made her mouth water. But it wasn’t necessarily all _him_. It was his blood. _God_ , his blood. It was a wall of euphoria that slammed into her, overwhelming her senses all over again. She shouldn’t be able to smell anything, not a damn thing, since she’d doubled the numbing cream that morning, but she did.

No, not everything - just him.

A tiny shock rattled through her head and she grimaced as her fangs threatened to drop _again_.

Felicity whimpered, clenching her teeth until the feeling disappeared. Taking a deep breath, she tried to regain her equilibrium… but that was the wrong move. His scent washed through her again, and this time she actually moaned. She clamped her hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut.

Oh god, she had to get out of there.

Felicity pushed herself to her feet, blindly grabbing her purse. Bathroom, she’d go to the bathroom, hide there until he left. What was he doing there, who the hell was he? Why _her building_? Why was he there, of all places… unless he’d recognized her last night? Her stomach dropped at that - what if he was coming after her, what if he was there to kill her because of how she’d reacted? She’d been so close to losing control last night, and only the power of her will grappling with the vestiges of her control had gotten her to her feet and away from him.

But he’d seen her, he had to know not only what she was, but who she was. A quick look at the database and he’d find her.

What if he was there to kill _her_?

Felicity didn’t get the chance to follow that line of though. Instead of holding her breath, she inhaled, sending that scent washing over her again. It was stronger, so strong that she collapsed against her desk, clenching her teeth to maintain her control…

“Felicity Smoak?”

With a startled gasp, her eyes snapped open.

He stood in her doorway, holding a laptop…

Oliver Queen was The Arrow.

“Oh no,” she managed before his eyes narrowed, his entire stance changing as he whispered, "It's you."

4.

“It’s you,” he said.

Oliver took a step closer and she instantly stepped back, crowding herself into the corner of her cubicle. He didn’t stop this time though, not like he did last night. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew she wouldn’t hurt him.

“That was you last night,” he continued.

She shook her head, and it almost gave him pause. _Almost_. But he knew. He took a deep breath - her entire space smelled like her, the unique scent that was _this_ vampire. It’d been too faint to consciously pick up on it last night, but smelling it in full force here, he definitely knew it was her. Slade’s voice echoed in his ears - _“They’re not the only ones who can smell their prey, kid. Try again.”_

Even if he couldn’t tell by scent alone, there was still a bite mark on her neck from where the vamp last night had bitten her. Oliver frowned. It was a tell-tale sign that she had fed last night, because it was starting to heal, but she clearly wasn’t getting enough. Vampires healed fast, very fast, unless they were malnourished, which she was. She was incredibly thin and pale, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced in the fluorescent lighting.

It made his stomach sour, especially when he saw the fear on her face.

He stepped towards her again. “I’m not…”

“No.” The denial was immediate. She shook her head, sending her ponytail flying behind her and her glasses slipping down her nose. He didn’t know vampires wore glasses. “I wasn’t there. Wherever you were. I would remember you, because you’re Oliver Queen and you’re…” She took a deep breath and her face softened, like she was smelling something euphoric before catching herself. Him? Was that why she’d almost dropped her fangs last night? That made his chest tighten in a weird way. His face must have shown something because she blanched. “I’m not… I’m smelling the doughnuts. Down the hall. I need new numbing cream. I need to bathe in it. need… to…” She was babbling, and stuttering slightly. Oliver just watched her, unable to keep the small smile off his face. It was her. He had no doubt. “I was at work. Here. No! I was at home, because curfew, and I’m not… No.”

“How about we start over?” Oliver asked.

If it was possible, she paled even further, which made him frown. 

What did she think he was going to do to her?

“I’m Oliver Queen, and I can only assume you’re Felicity Smoak.” He held out his hand for her to take. “It’s nice to meet you.” She stared at his hand like it was going to leap off his wrist and stake her. “I don’t bite, Felicity.” That had her eyes widening in alarm, flying back to his. “I’m sorry, that was a little crass. It was&hehellip a bad joke. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you… I don’t…” Her voice dropped, matching her tiny form a little too well as she whispered, “You’re not going to kill me?”

Oliver frowned. “What? No.”

He took a step towards her again, not missing the way she flinched. It made him stop. Again.

“I’m not here to kill you, Felicity.” He raised the laptop. “I need your help.”

5.

_“I’m not here to kill you, Felicity.” He raised the laptop. “I need your help.”_

Felicity’s eyes darted to the laptop he held up before looking back at him. He was there for help. From her. With a laptop. Before she could stop herself her eyes darted down his body, looking for a weapon, for a stake, but she didn’t see one. Some _stupid_ part of her was telling her he was telling the truth, that he was just there for help, but she was pretty sure that part of her was more enamored with the way his body was shaped and how gorgeous his face was and how warm his eyes were, especially when they looked at her.

He was looking at her like she wasn’t just some thing, some vampire. He was looking at her like she was just another person, and it wasn’t because he needed a favor. It was the same way he’d talked to her last night.

Like she was worth protecting.

Which made the way her mouth watered and the way her body practically lurched towards him when she accidentally inhaled again slightly alarming - he made her feel so safe, while she wanted to drop her fangs and bury them in his neck. Just _thinking_ about it had the chip in her neck going off, had her hissing under her breath… and still, she knew the pain would be worth it, if she could just get a taste…

A sharper zap shot through her jaw and she gasped.

His frown deepened, his eyes darting down to her mouth before meeting her eyes again. Something shifted in his face, like he was realizing something. He _knew_. He knew what she wanted to do, what she was thinking. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, like he was seeing right into her… and yet he wasn’t scared, or worried.

That only made her feel safer.

“O-okay,” Felicity replied, her voice cracking. Clamping her lungs down, she nodded - thankfully vampires didn’t _need_ oxygen, her body was just on autopilot as much as a human’s was. The sooner she did what he was asking, the sooner he’d get out of there. And that was what she wanted. She wanted him gone. She took a stilted step towards him, holding her hand out for the laptop. “I’ll just, uh… take that, and you can… go, and I’ll…. call you.”

He smiled, and it made her stomach twist. 

He was being so nice, so warm, so… _kind_.  


“Thank you,” he said softly, handing her the laptop.

“Uh… yeah. Mmhmm,” Felicity managed, forcing herself to not breathe, to keep her eyes on the laptop…

“I need to get the information that was on there…” he started. She just _now_ noticed the bullet holes. “And…”

And then their fingers brushed together. 

6.

The second they touched, everything _changed_.

Oliver jumped, his eyes darting down to their hands, his voice fading as Felicity gasped.

The bloodlust _disappeared_. His _scent_ disappeared. She breathed in quickly, deeper, and let out a little whimper of relief when all she caught were the usual smells of the office - the dull scent of other humans, paper, ink, the carpet, cleaning, herself…

Not him.

Dropping the laptop abruptly, Felicity stepped forward, right into his personal bubble. Oliver let out a shocked, “Oh,” barely catching the computer in time, but she didn’t notice. No, all her attention was on his skin… _touching_ his skin. She slipped her hand over his and up his arm, pushing her fingers under his sleeve. Her eyes slid shut as she took a deep breath, breathing him in… but it was no longer _him_.

It was like he wasn’t even there.

“How?” she breathed, keeping her eyes closed as she curled her fingers around his forearm. “How is this… What is this?”

“You have your numbing cream,” he whispered, his breath dancing over her cheek. “I have something similar. To protect myself.”

“But…” Felicity shook her head, gripping his arm with both hands. “I don’t…”

“It’s a chemical,” Oliver said. “I put it on to mask my scent, because I’m… because of what I do. I need it to protect myself, against vampires so they don’t know who I am. Obviously.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was staring at her, his brow furrowed. “It doesn’t work with you though.”

“You don’t sound scared of that.”

“I’m not,” he replied instantly. He stared at her. “I’m not and I don’t know why. I’m just… not.”

She had no idea what to say to that.

“What… what chemical?” she asked. “Do you wear, what…?”

“It’s designed from my blood, specifically for me.”

“But I could smell you,” Felicity interrupted. “Last night. And today. I smelled you the second you got off the elevator.”

“Yeah.”

“But this… _touching_ you…” She held him tighter, and it didn’t even occur to her that was _touching_ him, which she was pretty sure was a big no-no somewhere. But she didn’t care. “Oh my god, you have no idea how good this feels.” He didn’t say anything to that and she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“It’s okay.”

Felicity shook her head with a dark frown. “Why aren’t you… you’re not…” She looked up at him. “I’m not a person, Oliver.”

He smiled softly. “I’m aware of that, Felicity.”

“But you’re… treating me like I’m not… like I’m…”

“Human?” Oliver filled in.

He stared at her for a long moment, and it was like the very air around them paused, waiting with her. He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to spook her, and covered her hands where they were on his arm. It made her jump - he was so _warm_ \- and she tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip, keeping her in place.

“I’m… I’m not though,” she whispered.

Oliver didn’t budge. “So?” 

7.

“So?” Felicity repeated. “So you’re… You’re part of the Queen family. The Queens. You’re Mr. Queen.” Oliver’s eyebrows slowly went up. How many different ways was she going to say it? He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. “I’m trying to say you’re Oliver Queen, which means your family basically invented this little chip hardwired into my nerves, which is more like a shock collar than anything…” He made a face at that, and she jerked. What was she doing? “Not that I’m… not that I’m saying we don’t deserve it, or that we don’t need them, or th-that I’m ungrateful to have one because it means I get to live in the city, or…”

“Felicity.”

Oliver let go of her hands and touched her shoulder. He rested his hand there and her breath caught, her eyelids fluttering.

It did not escape her attention when his thumb brushed against the side of her neck.

“First of all,” he said, “Mr. Queen was my father.”

She didn’t hear him though. Because his thumb had drifted down to rest on her collarbone, and it was making hearing a little difficult. Not because she couldn’t, no; it was because every sense in her body was honed in on the heat of his palm seeping through her thin top… honed in on her his thumb when it moved again, when the tip of it brushed over her jugular…

Her fangs tingled and she actually _growled_. A sharp zap came from the chip, radiating through her head, and the growl melted into a pained whimper.

Oliver’s eyes flew to his hand before he yanked it away.

“Sorry,” he said. Was his voice lower, or was she losing it? “I wasn’t thinking.”

He wasn’t thinking… what? That she was a vampire? That touching her neck was, to put it kindly, ill-advised? He wasn’t thinking about what it meant for someone - human or vampire - to look at her neck, much less touch it? He wasn’t remembering one of the biggest side effects of the chip system was that their throats became so incredibly sensitive, because of the chip, because of the years of not being able to touch others, of only touching your own?

The spot he’d been touching was on fire.

It took her a second to realize that she was digging her nails into his arm again… and that he hadn’t moved.

He’d just touched her neck and she’d just growled and he wasn’t scared.

That realization was oddly intoxicating.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, staring at each other, neither of them moving before she remembered just where they were, who he was and what he’d come down there for.

“What did you…?” she said breathlessly. “What did you need again?”

“My laptop.”

“Right. Okay.” She finally broke eye contact and took a shaky breath.

And then she let go of him, reaching for the computer. The second her skin left his, his scent assaulted her. It was pure euphoria, and she knew he’d taste even better… The image of leaping at him right now, wrenching his head to side and sinking her fangs into his throat, piercing the delicate skin there and _sucking…_ drinking him, feeding from him…

Felicity’s fangs dropped. 

8.

Oliver just moved.

He didn’t stop to think that there was something special about this vampire, something that he should find worrying, something that should be making him run in the other direction. He didn’t wonder what it was about her that made him feel more at ease than he had since he’d returned from Lian Yu. He didn’t _care_ , because it was the same reaction he’d had the night before - something was wrong, and all he wanted to do was protect her.

Some part of him knew what would happen the second she let him go, the second she breathed him in - and wasn’t _that_ was an intriguing mystery in and of itself.

And then her fangs actually dropped.

The last time Oliver had seen a vampire’s fangs had been on Lian Yu and it was just as shocking and awe-inspiring now as it had been then.

Except this vampire was chipped and the reaction was instantaneous. The second she bared her fangs at him, it sent a violent shock rocketing through her head and she jerked back with so much force it should have broken her neck. It would have if she was human.

“Whoa, hey!” 

He followed her, crowding her back against her desk, and grabbed her face. 

Oliver pressed as much of hands to her bare skin as he could, cradling her, pulling her closer, silently urging her to grab his forearms, to touch him back just like she had been. It worked. She sagged against him, her fangs disappearing. She took a deep breath; it was laced with a horrified whine that made his heart ache as she leaned into him, grappling for his shirt.  


He shook his head, whispering, “No, Felicity, touch me, touch my skin,” and she did just that. Her hands moved until she found his arms again and it was a second layer of protection washing over her. She let out a little sob, nuzzling her face into his palms. He could only imagine the pain. “Easy,” he breathed. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered. She was trembling as she dug her nails into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

A blood tear leaked from the corner of her eye. He wiped it away, smearing blood across her pale skin.

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m…” What? He had nothing. He was clearly more of a danger to her by staying than if he just left. “I should probably go.”

“No!” Felicity gasped, holding him harder. “Don’t let me go, please. _Please_.”

“Okay, okay,” Oliver said, holding her closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I can’t control it around you… I’m so sorry…”

“Stop,” he ordered. “This isn’t your fault.”

“By virtue of the fact that I’m a vampire means it’s my fault.” Felicity swallowed, finally opening her eyes to look at him. The anguished pain on her face made him grimace. “You came down here for your laptop and I nearly killed you. And that…” Her breath hitched. “That means I should…”

“No.” He shook his head. Enforcing the law was the farthest thing from his mind. “I know the difference between intent and instinct. You don’t want to hurt me, I know that. And this… our situation is a little different. I don’t what this is…” Oliver brushed his thumbs over her cheek for emphasis, barely blinking an eye at the intimacy of it. “Or why it’s happening, but this isn’t your fault.”

She didn’t respond, because she believed differently. That alone told him what he was saying was true.

For a long moment, they didn’t move, or speak. Her breathing evened out and his heart stopped pounding against his ribcage. Felicity glanced down at the laptop.

“I can’t fix anything if I can’t let you go. And I can’t really see you holding me like this while I… I mean, touching. Touching like this.” She closed her eyes again. “Maybe you should go.”

“Or I can just make sure I’m always touching you. Somehow.” Her eyes flew back to his, wide and unsure. He looked down at her - the standard issue vampire attire covered most of her skin, as it was designed to, meaning it wasn’t like he could just touch her shoulder and be done with it. Although he wouldn’t want to do that anyway; it was too close to her neck. He wasn’t letting himself think about _that_. “So where…”

Oliver cleared his throat.

“Where should I touch you?” 

9.

_“Where should I touch you?”_

The words hung between them. Mostly because Felicity had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. It didn’t help that the last thing she really wanted to do in that very moment was move at all. The thought of that vicious hunger taking over again made her mouth water with want just as much as it made her recoil. Her fangs stung at the memory alone and she dug her fingernails into his skin. It was only when he hissed under his breath that she realized how hard she was holding him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, letting him go completely. The instant her skin left his, she felt the start of the familiar burn in her chest \- the _need_ climbing up her throat - and she grabbed him again. It instantly soothed her and she bowed her head. “Wow, this is horrible.”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Oliver replied. “But, it’s… workable.” She huffed out a sarcastic laugh and he nodded. “For now. I can send someone else next time, someone I trust with my, uh… other business.”

“Next time?” Felicity asked, her eyes flying to his. The sudden movement emphasized the smooth calluses on his palms scraping softly against her cheeks. “So this is gonna be a regular occurrence then?”

His lips ticked up slightly. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I was just trying to be considerate of what’s going on right now.”

“Oh. That’s… nice.”

She didn’t actually want to see him again, did she?

Oliver shifted, bringing her right back to the problem at hand as he said, “So where…?”

“I don’t…” Felicity’s voice cracked. “I don’t know about where else… I need my hands to work, so it’s not like you can…” She glanced down, speaking without thinking. “My neck is obviously…” She shivered. When she felt his fingers twitch in response, her eyes flew back to him. He was staring at her with an unreadable look on his face, but he didn’t say anything. “And… it’s not like you can sit on the floor and put your hand in my pants - for my _ankle_ , I mean. Like, touching my ankle. Although how effective-”

“How about your back?” Oliver interrupted. His voice was oddly husky.

Felicity blinked. “M-my back?”

His eyes darted down to her neck. “The only other place that’s open is your neck, and that…”

“You can’t touch me there,” she immediately whispered.

“I know,” he replied breathily. And oh, he did know. He knew exactly what that meant and it wasn’t knowledge bred from the run-of-the-mill fear that was rampant in the city. This was personal knowledge. He knew how sensitive a vampire’s neck was, especially captive ones. “So.” He sighed softly. “Your back. Your… lower back, maybe.”

“Um…” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Okay. That's… doable.”

“Good. Then…”  


He shifted, dropping one hand from her face. It was just the one, but it was enough for panic to stab her in the chest. The only thing on her mind was making sure the _hunger_ didn’t come back and instead of pausing to think rationally, instinct took over. She grabbed for him, reaching for the closest bare skin she could find, and cupped his face. He froze, his eyes going wide, and a second later, so did hers.

But he didn’t say anything, nor did he give her a second to appreciate the slight flare of his nostrils or how his eyes darkened because then he was moving again.

Oliver slid his free hand around her. He paused when he reached her waist, his fingers grazing against the edge of her top. His eyebrows went up in question, and with a little gasp, Felicity nodded. He pushed his hand up inside her shirt and pressed it flush against her naked lower back.

Her shiver had nothing to do with his scent this time and she felt herself blushing, her breathing becoming erratic.

Oliver let go of her face, but she didn’t dare let him go. Not yet.

Felicity had no idea of she was trembling because she was scared to let him go… or because of the heat seeping into the chilly skin of her back.

“You okay?” he asked.

10.

_“You okay?” he asked._

_No._

“Felicity?”

Was it her imagination that he was dragging her name out? Like he was tasting each syllable, stressing them, memorizing how they felt on his lips?

“I, uh…” Felicity licked her lips. It’d been years since anyone had touched her like this. And even longer since a human had. The chip implantation sure didn’t count, because she’d been very unconscious during that. “Y-yeah.” When she realized her eyes were closed, they snapped back open to find him staring at her, with a look she couldn’t quite read. _Oh boy._ She forced her gaze to her hands. “I should…” It took her way too long but she finally worked up the nerve to pull them away from him. And then it was just him touching her. She took a tiny breath and immediately winced. His scent was there again, but it was… manageable. “Okay. I-I think we’re good.”

Oliver furrowed his brow with what looked like actual concern. “You don’t look like it’s good.”

That’s because it wasn’t entirely good, but it was _manageable_. And oh, if she was ever going to get him out of there, she had to work with manageable.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. You’re fine, I mean.” Felicity took another breath and it was easier. _Good_. “With me. Here. In all the ways someone can be fine. Not that I’m, like… that you’re…” She stopped herself, knowing she wasn’t making sense. Felicity turned to his computer. “Laptop. So…” She noted the jagged holes littering it and she frowned. “What was wrong with it again?”

“I spilled a latte on it.”

And just like that, the awkwardness evaporated. It didn’t matter that his hand was on her lower back, or that he was standing so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, because he was _lying._

“Really?” Felicity asked, shooting him a skeptical look. “Because these look like bullet holes.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes in a way that made her jaw snap shut. He may be nice, he may not be scared, but that didn’t change anything in the least. She was still a vampire, and he was human. And not just any human, he was Oliver Queen. But… she didn’t back down. Because this innocent piece of tech didn’t deserve such carelessness. She raised hers in return, waiting for the truth.

“My coffee shop’s in a bad neighborhood,” he replied. She stared at him in disbelief. Oliver pressed his lips together, like he was trying to keep himself from smiling. “I just need help recovering the hard drive.”

He was lying. Blatantly and badly. Her mind raced with questions, but she didn’t ask them.

That is until he raised an eyebrow - in _challenge_.

“You know I already know, right?” Felicity said. “Which means if I know what really happened to this thing and what you want off of it, I’ll be able to do my job quicker.”

Her sharp bluntness had him pausing, which in turn made her freeze because _what was she doing?_ That probably would have been the extent of his reaction had he not been touching her… but he was. The fingers splayed across her back tightened in response, curling in against the base of her spine. It sent an electric wave of goosebumps erupting across the surface of her skin, making her shiver.

It was a nice reminder of exactly who this was and what was going on right now.

“That wasn’t…” she started, right before someone else walked into her cubicle.

Oliver jumped, spinning around to face the new person, his hands coming up as if to protect her. She didn’t get the chance to react to that though, because while the person who’d walked in let out a loud, “Whoa, hey, it’s just me,” Oliver’s scent hit her _hard_.

He’d stopped touching her.

Bloodlust took over and all that was left was instinct.

11.

“No!” Oliver gasped, but it was too late.

She attacked.

He’d never seen anything like it.

When he’d heard movement outside her door, he’d moved without thought - to _cover_ her, to _protect_ her. He hadn’t questioned the instinct, he’d just acted. But in the process, he’d let her go.

He’d stopped touching her and he realized it too late.

Felicity didn’t even flinch this time, not like before. Oliver felt the air moving at his back, saw the look of surprised horror twisting Digg’s face, and then she was moving. She shouldn’t have been able to get that far - really, she shouldn’t have been able to move that fast at all because of her lack of sustenance - but she did.

One second she was behind him, and the next…

She was pushing _him_ behind _her_ and moving to attack Digg with a primordial roar that he felt in his bones.

“No!” Oliver gasped just as Diggle fell back with a startled, “What the _hell_?”

Oliver tackled her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, grabbing her right out of the air. One hand slid up her top as he twisted, taking her with him. He shouted her name, his hand naturally contouring to her stomach. He pressed his his arm against her naked skin, his other hand grabbing one of her hands - _trying to touch her_ \- but it wasn’t enough.

Felicity clawed at Oliver, growling viciously. It was a feral sound that used to make his insides turn to liquid, and it was quickly followed by the solid snap of her jaw as she snarled at Diggle. What did she think was happening? Was this her animalistic side kicking in? Was she protecting her food, or him?

Before he could comprehend any of it though, the chip suddenly kicked in. He felt the zap it gave her, and he shouted when it nearly made him drop her. She fought it, for a second, still reaching for Diggle… until the pain registered.

And then she _screamed_.

The sound tore through him as her entire body radiated with agony. She jerked, undulating against him, her muscles spasming. God, it was like she was being electrocuted. It lasted for an eternity just as much as it lasted one second before it was finally too much, and she lost consciousness.

Oliver didn’t realize he’d been screaming with her until she fell silent. When he looked up, he was on the ground, Felicity’s crumpled body sagging against his. She was so deadly still it made him shudder. It was a silly thing to think, considering vampires were technically dead.

“Felicity?” he whispered, reaching for her face. Her ponytail had come loose, leaving hair draped over her face. He brushed it away, but she didn’t respond.

The silence that followed was brutal, making Oliver’s chest too tight.

“Oliver, what…?” Diggle started. He was still crouched against the wall where he’d ducked for cover. His wide eyes were glued to Oliver and the vampire in his arms.

“We have to go,” Oliver interrupted. People would be coming, reacting to her screams - _their_ screams - and an alarm would be going off that her chip had been fully activated. “ _Now_.”

He gathered Felicity up, cradling her against his chest as he stood. Her head lolled, and he paused long enough to make sure it rested against his chest instead. She was so incredibly light, way too light, and he was afraid if he tightened his hold on her, her bones would break. Oliver moved to leave, but Diggle stopped him.

“Whoa, what are you doing, we can’t take her,” Diggle said. He put his hands up when Oliver tried to move past him again. “I don’t know what the hell I just walked in on, but they’ll find her with the honing crystal in the chip. We can’t-”

“I’m not leaving her!” Oliver snapped.

The ferocity in his voice echoed through Felicity’s workspace, silencing Diggle as much as it made his own heart skip a beat. What was he doing? But he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to get her out; he had to get her to safety.

An alarm sounded in the building, a response to the emergency team alerting the surrounding area to the presence of a dangerous vampire.

“Oliver…”

“ _No_ ,” Oliver growled, leveling Diggle with a dark look. “She’s coming with us.”

Without waiting for a response, Oliver swept past the other man. With an aggravated huff, Diggle followed him.

They disappeared just as a swarm of stake-wielding police flooded the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Posts](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/tagged/faraway)


	42. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Prompt via befitandchase: “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asked for some dialogue prompts on Christmas Eve. This is me just... exercising my writing ability. Wondering if it's still there. Knocking on the ol' brain and saying, "Hey, hi, you still alive?" I have no plans to continue this.

**"Who crawls through someone's window at 4am to go for ice cream?!"**

“Oh my god!”  


The booming voice still echoed through the room, almost as loud as it echoed in her ears, loud enough to startle Felicity from her delicate perch on the ledge of what was supposed to be her best friend’s old bedroom window.

 _Supposed to be_  being the operative words there because the last time she checked, Thea’s voice wasn’t that loud or that deep or that _male_  and she was always willing to drop everything for ice cream, four in the frakking morning or not. 

So who in bright Google hell…

Not the important part. 

The important part was that she hadn’t been ready to be yelled at quite so insanely or for the yelling to be followed by a large shadow appearing out of _nowhere,_  one that came right at her like it was going to shove her right back out where she had come from.

It didn’t need to, though, because Felicity managed that all by herself as a bolt of terror slammed into her chest, making her jump enough that she _let go of the stupid window._

Her nails scrabbled over the wood, trying to find purchase, but gravity had her and with a panicked shriek, she fell backwards.

Or she would have if a hand hadn’t clamped around her wrist just as the shadow shot out the window and wrapped around her, yanking her back inside with a deftness that stole the air from her lungs. 

Felicity gasped, clinging to the shadow - the _man_ , the very large man who was half-naked and really hot and kind of sweaty and covered in scars? - as he dragged her into the room, holding her as if she weighed nothing. 

This was the part where she was supposed to freak out, right? A strange man was in her best friend’s room and he was holding her, but… she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t anything. Alright, that was a lie. She was _blank._ Her mind just went blank, the adrenaline doing a really good job of telling her to  _hold on_  instead of letting her think or trying to make sense of what exactly was happening. And that was a good thing, she was pretty sure, because she’d almost just fallen out of a window and her throat was closing and she was shaking and _who the hell was in Thea’s room?_

“Hey, easy, easy,” someone said, a low gritty voice that cut through her rambling like her words were tissue paper. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“No,” she replied, her voice uneven, and a little too loud. She shoved on him, forcing him to let her go, and he did, abruptly, leaving her to stumble over her own feet. “No, I’m not okay because some strange guy is in my best friend’s room and who the hell are you, where’s Thea? Thea? Thea!”

The guy came towards her with a quiet, “Hey, take it easy-”  


“No!” Felicity snapped, reeling back until she hit the nightstand. She didn’t take her eyes off the man before her as she slapped around until she found something heavy. A lamp. She picked it up, ripping the cord out of the wall before waving it at him. “Don’t come any closer.”  


“Would you…” _Was he laughing at her?_  “I’m not going to hurt you.”  


“Yeah, that’s what they all say, isn’t it?” Felicity retorted, waving the lamp again, this time with enough force to send the lampshade careening across the room. “Where’s Thea? What’d you do to her?”

“I didn’t do…”  


The bedroom door suddenly flew open, accompanied by a sharp, “What the hell is going on in here?” just before someone’s palm slapped the wall. They found the light switch a second later, bathing the room in light.

Relief hit Felicity hard when her best friend strode into the room, half her hair frizzed out from sleep, her shirt lopsided, a scowl on her face. It disappeared when she realized what was happening.

And then Thea laughed.

It was a brittle, ugly sound, one that had Felicity frowning before she turned to look at the the intruder.

Her stomach bottomed out. 

 _Oh frak_. 

He was gorgeous. Like… drop-dead, melt-your-insides, forget-how-to-speak gorgeous. It helped that he was only wearing boxers and his skin was shimmery with sweat and his hair was mussed and he was _huge_ , very huge, standing before her with his hands still up in placation, a move that somehow made his shoulders look twice as big than they probably were, and all those muscles bulging and his hands really were big and callused and _wow those really had been scars_  and _that scruff_  and his eyes that were crinkled in amusement, but were also cold and detached as he stared at her, like he wasn’t really in there, like he wasn’t really _here_ … 

But that wasn’t why her stomach disappeared on her. Alright, it wasn’t all of it.

No, it was because…

“Felicity, this is Oliver, my brother. You know, the one who disappeared for eight years and let us think he was dead only to suddenly appear on our doorstep tonight like nothing happened in the first place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/168905003694/53-who-crawls-through-someones-window-at-4am-to)


	43. Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Prompt via missyriver: “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asked for some dialogue prompts on Christmas Eve. This is me just... exercising my writing ability. Wondering if it's still there. Knocking on the ol' brain and saying, "Hey, hi, you still alive?" I have no plans to continue this.

**“I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”**   


He just stared at her. 

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered, her voice cracking. “Please.”   


For a split second she thought she saw a flicker of recognition deep in his eyes, a spark, a hint that he knew who she was, that he remembered her and their life together, but then it was gone.

It was just _gone_ , like everything they’d had together. No, not gone. 

 _Stolen_.

A noxious wave of fury mixed with the grief currently choking the life out of her as she reached for him. Her fingers shook as she gripped the lapels of his suit before cupping his face. The familiarity of his stubble where it scraped against her fingertips was like a bullet to her heart - _it’d been so long_  - but where before he would smile and lean into her touch, where warmth would fill his eyes, love and happiness shining out at her as he whispered her name, drawing it out, tasting each syllable, pouring all his love for her into those easy beats before turning to kiss her fingers…

Now there was nothing.

Tears blurred her vision and she quickly blinked them away, not wanting to miss a single moment of this. It’d been five years since she saw him last, since he’d been taken away from her, and now she’d found him, she had him again, but…

But she didn’t.

“Oliver, please…” she breathed, too low for anyone to hear. “Remember me. _Remember me. Please.”_

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice unusually even. He cocked his head. “Do I know you?”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/168905258634/61)


	44. A Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Prompt via missyriver: “I bet I can make you scream my name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asked for some dialogue prompts on Christmas Eve. This is me just... exercising my writing ability. Wondering if it's still there. Knocking on the ol' brain and saying, "Hey, hi, you still alive?" I have no plans to continue this.

**“I bet I can make you scream my name.”**   


Oliver narrowed his eyes at the challenge. 

He hadn’t been drinking nearly enough to deal with this - with the dark glint in her eye, the smirk on her beautiful red lips, the gorgeous flush of her cheeks as what she’d just said caught up with her. She’d always been really good that, speaking before thinking, but where before she would have let her mortification take over, now she used it as fuel. 

Against him.

Oliver clenched his jaw, not backing down. She wanted to push him, to make him snap, to piss him off. Being an utter asshole about _every-fucking-thing_  wasn’t enough, apparently, she had to take it to this level, too.

The holiday party swirled around them, people bumping into them, Christmas music filling the air along with the clink of glasses and laughter and conversation.

None of it pierced the tense bubble growing between them.

“How much?” Oliver responded.  


Surprise colored her face. She wasn’t expecting that. She wanted him to get pissed, wanted him to rail against her, to prove that the utter fucking mess that their lives had become was somehow his fault, that this vitriolic shit show was all on him.

Well, _tough fucking shit_.

“How much?” he repeated, stepping closer, towering over his ex-wife.

A flicker of indecision sparked in her eyes, and he almost faltered, almost stepped back, but he had had enough of that damn whiskey Diggle kept on hand to keep advancing on her. She let out an uneven breath before steeling herself. 

She looked ready for battle… except her eyes darted down to his lips before she caught herself.   


Dark satisfaction filled him - she was still just as affected as she was and if she was going to use it, so was he. 

“How much you wanna bet, Felicity?” Oliver asked, leaning in, close enough for his lips to brush her cheek, for him to speak in that low voice he knew made her knees weak. And it did, if her shudder and quick jerk to keep from toppling over was any indication. It was a double-edged sword though because the second he opened that memory floodgate, another was right on its heels, reminding him how goddamn hard he got just knowing he could make her soak her panties with his voice alone. He gritted his teeth even harder, ignoring the fact that his pants were getting too tight, closing his eyes as he kept going. “We could make it even more interesting and see if you still scream loud enough to have the neighbors calling the cops, hm? Remember when I had you screaming so much you could barely speak the next morning, and then I spent the entire day licking every goddamn inch of you until all you had left were gasps?”

She whimpered and he let out a harsh breath as he rocketed them both back into the past, to a time when things were the complete fucking opposite of _this_.

Felicity huffed out a sardonic little laugh, but it was undercut by the fact that she didn’t move away as she whispered, “You won’t ever get a single sound from me again.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Oliver said. He could _feel_  the anger coming off her in waves. “We both know that’s a lie.”

She didn’t skip a beat.

Felicity’s hand landed on his chest, her fingers slipping in-between the buttons of his flannel so her nails could scrape over his chest. His heart simultaneously seized and jumped to life at the same time, her touch making him gasp before he could stop himself.  


“Just like we both know I’d win this bet,” she said, pushing up on her toes so her lips grazed over his ear. The zipper of his jeans bit into his growing hardness just as he felt her hard nipples pressing into him. “Because the second I get my lips wrapped around you, you will say and do anything I want.” Felicity pulled back to look him in the eye. “ _Anything_.”  


“Not anymore,” Oliver vowed, but even he could hear how _wrong_  he was.

“Keep telling yourself that.”  


Felicity turned away and Oliver didn’t even bother trying to temper his reaction. He snatched her back, gripping her waist hard enough to leave bruises as he tugged her back into his chest. His drink sloshed over the fingers of his other hand as he whispered into her ear, “Meet me in the guest bedroom in five minutes and we’ll see who keeps fucking lying to themselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/168906702859/94)


	45. Christmas Cookie Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Prompt via sovvannight: “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asked for some dialogue prompts on Christmas Eve. This is me just... exercising my writing ability. Wondering if it's still there. Knocking on the ol' brain and saying, "Hey, hi, you still alive?" I have no plans to continue this.

**Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”**   


The kitchen was a _disaster._

Oliver’s jaw hung open as he stepped into the room, taking the sight in. It was…

There weren’t words.

“Okay,” Felicity continued, holding up her hands up. They were coated in flour and both palms were streaked with color, like she’d gone swimming in food dye. It matched the red smear on her cheek and the white speckles all over her forehead, some of which was disappearing into her hair. “I can see by your face that you are quickly approaching Unhappy and just hear me out, okay? Sade and I thought it would be fun to make some cookies for Santa, and she wanted to make them before you got home because she wanted to surprise you. And it was fine until I sort of broke the mixer because I left the spoon in the bowl, which is why there’s green icing all over the cupboards over there. So while I was trying to clean that up, I didn’t realize that your daughter would be taking matters into her own hands and would start making another batch of cookie dough, which explains the sugar and the flour…” She waved vaguely behind her, and for the first time Oliver noticed all the white powder covering the floor. “Over there. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though, right, because she’s your daughter and so it makes sense. But then it was stickier than I thought it was going to be, is that how it’s supposed to be? Is dough supposed to be so sticky? It said to use our hands so we used our hands but it got all over the place, so I gave Sade a bath, but then I accidentally burned the first few batches, so we made more and got messy all over again, and… Those actually turned out kind of fine although I’m secretly afraid that we put salt into that one instead of sugar. I haven’t tried them yet, but they look okay, so I’m assuming… that they’re fine. They look nice, right? Okay, don’t answer that, here’s the part that’s supposed to stop you from murdering me, your girlfriend, your very nice and admittedly very _insane_  girlfriend who had good intentions, I swear…”  


She spun away to grab a plate of cookies. They were… well, they looked like a six-year-old had done them. They were  _adorable_. And one of them had “santa” written in wobbly words across it, but even better, there was one with “daddy” written on it, which Felicity pointed out.

“Sade made you this. I wouldn’t eat it, just because of the salt thing, but she might make you and oh god, Oliver, I’m so sorry about that. It’s not her fault. Actually none of this is her fault, I didn’t mean to insinuate that, I would never…”  Felicity made a distraught face and spun away from him, setting the plate down. “I know I said I could handle watching her and I swear I can, I didn’t think baking cookies was going to be this big of a mess, and I’m so sorry, I was going to clean all of this up before you got back, but then I had to give Sade another bath and I hope that’s okay, because that sounds like something insane people do, or people who don’t know what they’re doing, because I don’t, and if you want to yell at me, please do, right now, just…”

Oliver didn’t have to hear another word.

He strode into the kitchen, walking right through the mess, not caring in the least that he was ruining his shoes or that this insane woman who he loved with every fiber of his being was going to mess up his suit with her food-covered hands. He didn’t care because it didn’t matter. None of this mattered…

Except it did.

It mattered that Felicity Smoak, the woman who had blustered her way into his life completely on accident, who had taken him and his daughter by surprise, who had made Oliver smile and laugh and feel like maybe he could have more in his life, that he deserved more, the woman who brought a light to his daughter’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before… 

It mattered because she was here and she was just…

Oliver cupped Felicity’s face and kissed her, cutting off the rest of her words. She was too stunned to do anything for a second, but then she let out a sigh, that beautiful sigh that he loved so much. And then her hands landed on his chest, her fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket…

“Oh!” Felicity blurted, letting him go abruptly. “Your suit! Oliver, I’m going to-”

Oliver pulled her back, his lips covering hers again. _He so didn’t care_. She made a sound of protest but he just took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, drinking from her lips until she let go completely. By the time he was done with her she was wrapped around him and he had her pushed up against the counter, both of them now covered in flour and all sorts of fun things that he couldn’t readily identify.

“That…” Felicity started breathlessly, a grin on her lips.  


“I love you,” Oliver said. Her eyes shot open and she jerked back to look up at him. It was the first time he’d said it, but it was definitely not the first time he’d thought it. He’d been waiting for the right moment… and he’d found it. Oliver smiled, brushing icing-coated hair off her temple. “I love you, Felicity Megan Smoak, I love you so damn much.”

“Even after I trashed your kitchen,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “And got cookie dough in your daughter’s hair. And am going to have to make you eat salt cookies because your daughter will expect you to eat them?”  


“Especially because of that,” he replied.  


Felicity laughed, shaking her head at him. “I’m not the insane one,” she said. “You are.” Oliver laughed as she stared at him in wonder. She pushed her fingers into his hair, winding herself around him, still shaking her head as she whispered, “I love you. I love you so much, Oliver, I…”

She kissed him, sealing the declaration, just as much as it sealed their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/168908093619/for-the-olicity-au-drabble-dealers-choice-60)


	46. Can I Kiss You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Prompt via ohmypreciousgirl: "Can I kiss you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asked for some dialogue prompts on Christmas Eve. This is me just... exercising my writing ability. Wondering if it's still there. Knocking on the ol' brain and saying, "Hey, hi, you still alive?" I have no plans to continue this.

**“Can I kiss you?”**

“I, uh…” 

He shook his head, quick and rapid, closing his eyes.   


Felicity bit her lip, heat erupting over her cheeks, and pulled her hands away from his face where she’d been cupping his cheeks. She told herself to get a grip, to ignore the shame and embarrassment that suddenly lit up her chest, but that was way easier said than done because it was right there, burning right underneath her heart, making her lungs tighten. The words had just tumbled out, because if she was being honest with herself it was all she’d been able to think about since the first time she met Oliver Queen, former billionaire who had gotten shipwrecked on an island only to be found a couple years later, half out of his mind, coming back to the public eye a recluse, a broken man, someone who lived in the shadows.

_“Until I met you.”_   


To say their courtship had been unconventional was an understatement.

And now she found herself listening to that little voice in the back of her mind that whispered,  _“It’s all in your head, Felicity. You’re projecting what you want. Leave him alone. Leave him be.”_

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to-”  


“Felicity,” Oliver breathed. _Fe-li-ci-ty_. Electricity shot through her veins, setting her skin on fire as he grabbed her hands before she could take them away completely, pushing them back up to where they had been, cupping his face. He held them there, not letting her go, a pained expression pulling at his features. The deep furrow she fought so desperately to keep away was back between his brows, his distress evident as he tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her heart broke for him and she wanted to kick herself _hard_  as he added a strangled, “I…”  


“Oliver, it’s okay,” Felicity said. “You don’t have to say anything, okay, or _do_ anything, not if you don’t want to, and especially not for me. Okay? Please, don’t let me push you or…”

“It’s not that,” Oliver interrupted, shaking his head again. He finally opened his eyes to look at her and the warmth waiting for her made her gasp. When she’d first met Oliver Queen he had been everything the media painted him as: broken, lost, hopeless. It’d taken her months - _years_  - to break down the walls that he had built around him so securely, and even then one slight misstep had her stumbling back a couple paces, had him replacing the bricks she’d so painstakingly broken down. But now… there was none of that. He was open, letting her see everything, and it had tears burning her own eyes as he opened himself to her completely. “Felicity, it’s just…”  


He let out a soft deprecating laugh and fell against her, leaning his forehead into hers. He pressed himself as close as he could, to the point that it almost hurt, but she didn’t complain, because he was finally  _leaning on her_  and it was everything she’d wanted him to do for so long.

“What?” Felicity prompted. “What is it?”  


“It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anybody,” Oliver finally admitted in a whisper. Her heart skipped a couple dozen beats, a rush of anticipation and heat and awe and wonder all suddenly coiling deep in her center as she registered just what he was saying. She waited with bated breath as he added, “What if… I don’t want to disappoint you.”  


“Oh, Oliver,” she breathed, cradling his face. She opened her eyes to look up at him, just as he opened his. “That is just not possible.”  


He didn’t believe her, and that was just fine, because she was so very okay with showing him.

She wanted to surge up and wrap herself around him, _show him_ , but she didn’t want to scare him. So instead… 

Felicity moved with infinite slowness, making sure he had plenty of time to change his mind. But he didn’t. No, he just gripped her hands tighter where they were pressed to his face, neither of them commenting on how they shook as she tilted her face up closer to his.

When their lips finally touched, it was… well, as Oliver later described it his wedding vows to her, it was,  _“When I finally knew I was alive, that I wanted to be alive, that I wanted to live… for you, and for me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/168910110444/52)


	47. Mortal Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Prompt via bitchwhwifi: “I tried, but I just can’t stay away from you anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asked for some dialogue prompts on Christmas Eve. This is me just... exercising my writing ability. Wondering if it's still there. Knocking on the ol' brain and saying, "Hey, hi, you still alive?" I have no plans to continue this.
> 
> (This one is my favorite out of the six I wrote on Sunday.)

**“I tried, but I just can’t stay away from you anymore.”**  


Oliver furrowed his brow as he watched her crawl onto the bed with a satisfied hum. It was a glorious damn sight, her beautiful body clad in a matching pair of lace black panties and a bra that left only the good parts to the imagination, but then she disappeared from view. Felicity curled up in the center of the bed and twisted and turned herself until she was all wrapped up in the red sheets, leaving only the bottom of her foot visible when she finally stopped moving. With a deep sigh, she settled into the middle of the mattress and…

That was it.

“Really?” he asked, slowly shedding his clothes. 

“Yep,” was the only reply he got.  


Oliver chuckled, toeing off his shoes before slipping his jeans off. There was a bit of a bite in the air and he shivered before jumping in with her. She let out a little squeak and tightened her sheet cocoon around her, anticipating his actions perfectly. She wasn’t an idiot, and Oliver should have changed tactics in recognition of that, but he was cold and he wanted to join her and the only way to do that was a full-on attack.

He dug his fingers into her sides, tickling her without mercy.

Felicity shrieked, the sound quickly turning into an almost manic laugh as she tried to wriggle away from him, but she’d tied herself up so well that there wasn’t enough room to escape. 

He didn’t relent in the slightest.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Felicity gasped between laughs, her arms bursting out of the cocoon to cover his. His laughter joined hers as she tried to shove his hands away, but it was to no avail, not until she managed to kick her legs free and started to wiggle her way off the bed with a pleading, “Oliver, stop, I can’t… Oliver!”  


“Okay, okay, okay,” he said, tugging on her, urging her back into his arms. “I’m done.” She snuggled back into his chest, seeking out his warmth and he wrapped her up, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. She was just as warm as him now, thanks to their exertions. “It’s just that I have to wait eleven months and twenty nine days to see you every year and the first thing you do when we get here is crawl into bed like it’s the one thing you can’t live without.”

“It is,” Felicity replied without hesitation. He made an exasperated noise and she grinned before turning around in his embrace so she was facing him. She looked up at him, at the man she wasn’t allowed to have, the one person in the entire world that she wanted with every cell in her body, every bit of yearning that her soul was capable of. The familiar burn of pain and angst simmered deep inside her, but just like always, just like every year, she pushed it back down, because she had him now, and she wasn’t going to waste a single precious second. She touched his face, dragging her fingers over every new line, every new scar, every new mark that hadn’t been there the year before. “This is the only place where I’m ever truly happy, because it’s the only place that’s really ours.”  


The weight of her words resonated, and she saw it in his eyes. It hurt him just as much as it hurt her, she knew that without him having to say a single word. That hadn’t stopped them from saying them, from saying every single word they possibly could over the years, to fully capture their love for each other, and their anger for the world they were stuck in, a world where they could never be.

Mortal enemies separated by bloodlines saturated in werewolf and vampire blood sort of did that, she supposed.

Felicity shoved those thoughts away again, forcing herself to smile.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.  


He didn’t have to be told twice. 

Oliver kissed her, hard and then soft, thoroughly and then so gently it brought tears to her eyes. He pulled her on top of him with ease before sitting up, cradling her in his arms, cradling her in a way that the world would never let him. He held her, kissed her, _worshiped_  at her altar, and she returned the favor in full, letting her head fall back, giving him herself as much as any human - as any werewolf - could give another being.

As Oliver sunk his teeth into her jugular, a tear of joy slipped down her cheek as she whispered,  _“I love you. Always. Forever._

_“Mine.”  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go to sequel: [Chapter 49: Mortal Enemies: Conclusion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089/chapters/30177078)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/168911898874/93)


	48. Rival Artists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Prompt via Anonymous: “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asked for some dialogue prompts on Christmas Eve and I'm working on the ones I didn't get the chance to draft. This is me just... exercising my writing ability. Wondering if it's still there. Knocking on the ol' brain and saying, "Hey, hi, you still alive?" I have no plans to continue this.

**“I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”**  


Felicity’s hand froze where she was about to start sanding down the wall and rolled her eyes. “A little late for that, don’t you think? Action means I’ve already thought about it in great detail, so why don’t you suck on my- Hey!”

Oliver’s hands had found her waist and a second later he was lifting her off the ladder like she weighed nothing.

Despite herself, her stomach swooped, her core tightening in anticipation of… of something that was so totally not going to happen. No, they didn’t do that. They _didn’t._ And yet that didn’t stop her mind from rocketing back to the last time his hands had been on her waist just like they were now, except they’d both been naked. He’d been behind her, his fingers gripping her so tight she’d had marks the next morning as he thrust-

Nope, that’d been a mistake. An accident. A bad night filled with bad judgments.

It didn’t matter that he’d made her head spin or that she’d had him gasping her name like it was the only word he knew.

_It didn’t matter._

It didn’t.

That sure didn’t stop the heat that rushed over her skin or stop her sex from clenching at the memory of him filling her, remembering how much she’d wanted him to not stop… or stop her from wanting him to push her up against the wall right now, to shove his hand down her pants, or for her to push him to the ground and yank his pants open…

_No!_

Felicity forced herself to focus on the hot wave of annoyance currently filling her chest that Oliver Queen was trying to sabotage her final project.

“Hey!” she snapped again just before he nearly dropped her onto her feet. Oliver didn’t waste a second, grabbing the ladder and moving it away from where she’d been about to start. She grabbed it back, stopping his momentum and he glared at her. “What are you doing? I’m using this wall.”  


“The hell you are,” Oliver retorted. “These are mine.”  


Felicity’s head jerked back like he’d slapped her. “What do you mean ‘ _these_ are mine’?”

“These walls…” Oliver waved sarcastically behind him. “Are mine. Did you even look at the assignments?”  


“Did you?” she snapped. Oliver’s response was to try and tug the ladder away from her, but she didn’t let him get far. “Hey, stop, this is mine, just like this wall is mine.”

“No-”  


“ _Yes_. First of all, the assignment was for _one wall_ , you don’t get two, and this wall, Wall #6, is assigned to me. Now, get the hell away from _my wall_  and go find your own!”  


His voice rose. “Felicity-”  


“She’s right,” a voice interjected. They turned to see an apologetic Iris holding up the paper with the wall assignments. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I was looking for my wall and I saw you two… talking. Oliver, you have Wall #9, which is…” She pointed. “Right next to Felicity’s.”

“You’re joking,” they said at the same time.

“Nope,” Iris said, shooting Felicity an _‘I’m so sorry’_ look. 

Oliver abruptly let the ladder go. Felicity wasn’t ready for it and she stumbled before shooting him a glare. He gave it back just as good before stalking over to Iris. He snatched the paper from her hands and scanned it. The scowl that covered his face was all the confirmation Felicity needed that they were indeed doing their final project right next to each other. 

 _In the same room_.

The last time they’d been alone in a room had ended with torn clothes, scratches and bruises, a broken lamp, and an ugly silence that still set her teeth on edge when they both realized what they’d given into.

This was… 

Not good.

“Hey, Iris?” Barry’s voice floated down the hallway. “Can I see that?”  


“Yeah,” Iris called back. She shot Felicity another  _‘I’m so sorry’_ look before taking the paper away from Oliver and leaving.

The silence that stretched on between them was deafening.

Felicity finally let out a derisive snort. “Well…” she started.

He didn’t give her a chance to finish. 

With a harsh, “This is fucking ridiculous,” Oliver stalked out of the room, leaving her alone.

“Oh yeah,” Felicity breathed. “Yeah, this is going to be _great_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I _might_ continue this one. Because they obviously have to have angry paint-covered sex against those walls, amiright?)
> 
> (I did end up continuing this one, in [I Could Never](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089/chapters/30219312)!)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/169044173189/72-i-will-knock-you-on-your-ass-if-you-even)


	49. Mortal Enemies: Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity’s families find out about them and their entire world comes crashing down. 
> 
> AU Prompt via the-queenfamily: “I guess dying with you isn’t the worse way to go.”
> 
> Sequel to Chapter 47 "[Mortal Enemies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089/chapters/30102519)" (Vampire/Werewolf AU).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing some AU prompts. This is a sequel to the vampire/werewolf AU I started in Mortal Enemies. 
> 
> **Warning: *Angst Warning* Also contains blood, dying and death. I don't hold back.**
> 
> I tried some different things with this writing-wise, as well as this new thing where I give up some of control and stop perseverating. It’s completely unedited, all mistakes are mine.

**“I guess dying with you isn’t the worse way to go.”**

The words didn’t register, not at first. They were far off, barely reaching him through the bloody fog in his head. Some part of him recognized her usual attempt at humor, realized what she was doing and saying, and what the words meant. But it wasn’t the words that had him finally jolting from the darkness - it her voice. The broken sound struck something primordial deep inside him, rending his soul. Salty tears tinged the cold air, mixing with the grief and pain that filled the room.

“I mean,” she continued. Something cold and rough swept over his brow. “Dying isn’t fun in general, I guess. It isn’t _ideal_ , is it? But, um… You know… at least I can be here. With you.” Her breath hitched. “So you aren’t alone. Oh Oliver, I… Why? Why didn’t you leave?”

Her voice broke into a sob.

Oliver tried to move towards her, to speak, to do anything, but his body wasn’t responding. The darkness was slowly fading, but the light was just out of reach. With each passing second he became more aware of the cold stone at his back, the dripping water somewhere, the foul stench of the cell where he’d been thrown after…

The memories hit him in tidal waves.

They’d been gone for a few day, like they were every year. They’d taken their stolen time for just them, living as much as they could in those precious few minutes where they could pretend that every force on the planet wasn’t designed to keep them apart.

It was just a few days, like always…

But when they’d gotten back, everything had been different.

Everything.

His mind reeled as it all came back to him in a sickening rush.

_… the news that Tommy was dead at the hands of her cousin, that Adrian had murdered his best friend because he’d been there to meet Adrian’s wrath, to defend Oliver, to defend the secret that defied entire generations of werewolves and vampires…_

_Adrian had killed Tommy because he found out about him and Felicity._

_… learning the Queen Family taking revenge, attacking Smoak House; hundreds of vampires and wolves died in the fight before the reigning vampires pushed the rest of the werewolf family out, sending them running for their lives…_

_… finding the burnt husk that was left of their mansion, all the bodies, so many bodies, so much blood, so much carnage, and then finding the bodies inside, the bodies he couldn’t identify…_

_… not knowing if Felicity was alive…_

_He would never forget the relief he’d felt when he finally caught her scent; instinct had taken over, the primal need to find his mate nearly drowning him in its power; he’d followed it, down into the sewers; the grief over Tommy, the rage of what had happened, the driving desire to see Chase’s head on a fucking pike, to feel the snap of his neck, all of it faded as he searched for her; when he almost lost her scent he nearly ripped a hole in the goddamn walls but then he’d caught it again, and…_

_“Oliver!”_

_Her voice had been music to his ears._

_“Felicity!”_

_All that’d mattered was seeing her, feeling her, holding her, and when she’d appeared, he was okay, if just for that moment._

_Felicity hadn’t hesitated a second, running to him, sewer water drenching both of them when she launched herself into his arms. He’d caught her with ease, hauling her up into his arms with whispers of her name, like it was the only thing he was capable of saying. She’d been shaking so hard her teeth chattered and he’d only held her tighter, burying his face into her neck, letting her scent wash over him._

_“I’m sorry,” she babbled, her words running together, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t know how he found out, I didn’t know he would-”_

_“I know, I know, I know,” he said, over and over, cradling her closer. Everything else could wait, it had to, because if he let any of it in he wouldn’t be able to stand much less hold her up, much less talk to her, much less…_

_They’d barely had a seconds before the splash of water sounded in the distance, followed by a growled shout of Felicity’s name._

_Chase._

_The shudder of outright terror that’d wracked his mate’s body had had his instincts roaring to life. She could taste them on the air as much as see them and Felicity had immediately pulled away, pushing him back with a harried, “Oh god, oh god, go, please, go before they find you.”_

_“No,” he’d growled, grabbing for her. “I’m not leaving you.”_

_Her fear wasn’t of her cousin, though._

_It was fear for him._

_For Oliver._

_“Please,” she’d begged. “Go, please, go. I’ll find you, I’ll find you, I promise, and we’ll…”_

… we’ll run away, we’ll live our own lives, we’ll be together like we always wanted…

_But they couldn’t do any of that, and they both knew it. They_ had _known it. Neither of them could abandon their families, could leave them to a war, especially one that’d just exploded because of their relationship, because they loved each other._

_And he couldn’t leave her…_

_But he had to._

_“I hate this,” he’d whispered, pulling her into his arms again. “I hate this so much.”_

_“Me too,” she replied. “Me too.”_

_Her tears had been hot where they fell on his shoulder and when she pulled back to look at him, her pained gasp had told him he was crying too._

_She’d caught the blood tear on her finger tip before pushing him away._

_“Go,” she implored. “Please, go, just…”_

_But it’d been too late._

_They’d found them._

It was a blur after that - Felicity being ripped from his arms, a roar he’d never heard in his life erupting from his chest as he fought through everything that was between him and her until the werewolves had finally overpowered him. And then it’d been broken bones and blood, so much blood, beatings until his body couldn’t heal, until there was nothing left but death.

But now Felicity was here and…

Had he died?

“Felicity,” he said… or he tried.

His jaw was broken.

He wasn’t dead, not yet. He was alive…

But that didn’t explain why she was here with him, talking about dying together.

A bolt of terror seized his chest and it was that that finally had his eyes finally snapping open, had him trying to reach for her, to protect her. He’d been beaten within an inch of his life, though, and all he could manage was twitching fingers and a groan.

“Oh my god,” Felicity breathed and just like before her voice was music to his ears as he came out of whatever death haze he’d been lingering in. “Oliver?”

Suddenly she was there, cupping his face, oh so gently, but nothing in the world was gentle enough for the damage that’d been done to him.

Oliver cried out, his body spasming as the full scope of his injuries hit him. He nearly blacked out again, spots dancing through his vision. Just as suddenly as the damage done to him caught up, so did the rest of his senses. The foul odors surrounding them hit him like a Mack truck, making him gag as the dull moonlight shining in through cracks in the wall sliced into his brain. Felicity’s hands felt like sandpaper against his skin and her gasps mirrored his own as he tried to move again, but he couldn’t. His spine had been snapped, surely, and as he tried to speak, he realized his trachea had been crushed.

He was hanging on by a thread.

 _It was her_.

She was the thread.

It was only then that he realized what was actually making him gag:

_Her blood._

It was everywhere, coating her, rivers of it oozing out of from a wound on her side. It wasn’t healing, and it wouldn’t, he realized as he breathed her in, as he instinctively analyzed every inch of it that he could - it wasn’t going to close on its own, not without surgery to pull together the torn flesh where…

 _She’d been bitten_.

The fury that crashed through him was incredible… but it had nowhere to go.

He couldn’t do anything.

That hit him hardest of all, sending him careening back into the darkness. The world disappeared for a second and he blinked rapidly, trying to see her - _one last time_ \- but then suddenly she was hovering over him again.

Oliver stared up at her, drinking her in, so grateful that he had this one last moment. God, but she was _gorgeous_ , encapsulating everything light and pure and _good_. She was everything and if he could just tell her one last time…

He tried to say her name again, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

Tears flooded his eyes, and it _hurt_ , his body having barely any blood left to keep him going much less to cry with.

Oliver wasn’t sure how long it took him, but he finally opened his mouth, trying to form her name.

“Oh god, they took your…”

For the first time he realized something wet was falling on his face.

Her tears.

_No, stop crying. Don’t cry for me._

_Live._

He wanted so badly to speak, but he just couldn’t.

Everything dissolved into a disjointed mess. Everything was _off_ , like things were happening out of sequence. He tried to keep up, but one second she was there and then the next…

She was gone.

_No!_

That same terror bowled him over and he almost moved that time, _almost_ , but then she was suddenly back, smoothing her hand over his face with a gentle, “Shh, shh, shh,” that ran over his damaged psyche like silk.

She repeated it, again and again, and he closed his eyes.

When she cupped his face again, it didn’t hurt.

 _This was it_.

At least he’d gotten to see her one last time…

“Drink.”

His eyes snapped open and an instant later her blood hit him again. It was hot, and so close, filling his senses until it was all he could think about. He instinctively yearned towards it with a needy growl that echoed from deep in his chest.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Drink. Drink.”

No. He couldn’t.

_She was hurt._

That shut his hunger down in the blink of an eye. It evaporated, leaving an ashy aftertaste that coated his tongue. Oliver fell back, shaking his head minutely, letting out a sigh that sounded like broken glass.

“No! No, you stubborn ass, you will…” Tears filled her voice again and then she was grabbing his jaw, forcing it open. Pain ripped through him and he groaned, trying to get away, but she was stronger than him right now. That didn’t stop him from trying, but it was useless. She shoved her wrist against his lips and he felt the torn skin where she’d bitten herself before he tasted her blood. “Drink. _Drink_. Drink right now or I swear…”

The instant her blood hit him, it began to work. Everything it touched tingled, burned, the healing powers of her werewolf blood raking through him.

He tried to fight her, but the blood was already on his lips, already dripping into his mouth and hitting his throat…

Oliver cried out as it seeped through him. It cut into him, like thousands of tiny knives carving him from the inside out as his body began to knit itself back together with the aid of her blood. Searing heat swept through his entire skull and he tried to scream, to get away from it, but she didn’t let him. Felicity kept her wrist pressed to him, not letting him break away, forcing him to take as much as he could handle. It was a lot… so much of her flowed into him… and it started to work.

For the first time it occurred to him that the reason he hadn’t died was because he’d been drinking from her for so long, that her werewolf blood lived in him as strongly as his own.

And now she filled him again…

With more than he should be taking.

_No._

Oliver tried to fight her again, but she was too damned strong, forcing him to take more and more, until his lips finally wrapped around her wrist, until his mouth healed enough for his natural drive for sustenance take over. His fangs descended, digging into her.

“Yes,” Felicity said, her voice breaking off as he started to suck. She nodded and the more he took, the more he began to finally see her. “Yes, drink, drink…”

A bruise was darkening on her cheek and eye, an open welt over her cheekbone, and her lip had been cut open, another jagged cut open along her hairline.

And the bite on her side…

_She was bleeding out._

Horror filled him and with a gasp of her name, Oliver wrenched his head away from her.

“No,” Felicity said, chasing after him, but he’d healed enough to stop her this time, his bloody hand clamping down on her arm just before she could reach his mouth. Her voice broke again as she whispered, “Damn it, Oliver, just _drink_.”

He shook his head. “No,” he rasped. She gritted her teeth, getting on her knees for leverage, but she wasn’t strong enough to do much but struggle against his grip. She’d lost too much blood herself. “Felicity, stop.”

“You need to heal,” she growled, desperation laced in her words. “Please, I can’t let you die, Oliver. I won’t.”

“You’re hurt,” he said, his arm shaking with effort to keep her back. His body fought to heal, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle as his struggles made the open wounds littered all over him start to bleed all over again. “Damn it, Felicity, you’re hurt. Stop!”

“I don’t care.”

Well, _he did._

“ _No_!” Oliver snapped, his voice gaining strength, enough to fuel his movements, to use her lack of balance against her.

With the flick of his wrist, he shoved her away. She crashed into the steel bed frame in the far corner, the metal scraping the ground with a loud screech. It was harder than he’d meant to, and he cursed when she fell to the ground, landing on her wound, making her cry out. But it didn’t stop her. Oliver cursed even more as she ignored her own wounds and crawled back to his side. He had more leverage now, though, and he used it, grabbing her before she could put her wrist to his mouth again.

Felicity tried to fight him, tried to move so she could press her throat to his mouth, but she was growing weak, so damned weak.

_Goddamn it_ , she shouldn’t have done that.

“Damn you,” she said, her voice shaking with tears. “Take it. _Drink._ ”

“No,” he croaked.

“ _Oliver_.”

He just shook his head, pulling her into his chest. She tried to fight him, but she wasn’t strong enough. He let out a series of slurred, “Shh, shh, shh,” as he held her, wrapping a limp arm around her, cradling her head with his other hand, which was broken some part of him realized.

It took him a second to realize he felt no more pain, and he wasn’t sure if it was shock or because he was holding her.

“Please,” she said, trying to push her wrist up so he could reach it.

Oliver snatched her arm away. “No, you shouldn’t have given me anything, Felicity! I took too much. I took too much.” His voice became strained as the reality of their situation really hit him. He held her tighter, burying his fingers into her hair. He shoved his face against the crown of her head, breathing her in… She was worse than he’d thought, so much worse. He could smell the death on her now. “Oh god, Felicity, I took too much.”

“Not enough,” she replied, her voice fading. “Never enough.”

She coughed, a wet, mulchy sound that wracked her entire body. Another one hit her even harder and Oliver grimaced, trying to absorb the shocks himself. When she finally settled he cupped her face, whispering, “Are you okay?”

The spatter of her blood on her lips told him everything he needed to know.

“Oh god. Oliver pulled her closer, as close as he could. “ _No_.”

_She was dying._

That didn’t stop her from trying one last time.

“Damn it, _no_ ,” he growled. “You’re going to bleed out…” But she already was, and she had been. Her life source was all over the floor, puddled underneath both of them. And she’d given him her wrist, without a care, without a goddamned care in the world. The reality of what was happening hit him in bursts, his chest tightening with each one until he could barely breathe. _Oh god, no, no, no._ “No, Felicity, no, _please no_.”

“Oliver… please…”

Her voice fell off, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey no.” Oliver shook her. “Stay with me, Felicity. Stay with me! What happened?” he demanded, trying to get her to talk more. “What happened? Talk to me. Please.” His voice cracked. “Felicity, what…”

“Adrian,” she whispered. Rage hit him so hard and fast that he nearly blacked out again. “I tried to stop him, to stop all of them. They were attacking you and I tried to stop them, but he caught me, and he… He bit me, to stop me. He almost… ripped right through me, he was so angry. If Quentin hadn’t been there…”

“Damn it,” Oliver gasped. He started to shake as he clung to her, holding onto her uneven voice as much as her body. “ _Damn it,_ that fucking bastard, that…”

“He’s the one who brought me in here,” she continued with a soft laugh. “Quentin. He… he ignored Adrian, and he brought me here, to be with you.”

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, sending blood tears cascading down his temple as what she was saying hit him:

_To die with you._

“Oh god, Felicity…”

They’d lost so much, so, so much, and yet…

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to want anything to be different. Not right now. Because she was here. And that…

That was more than he could ever ask for.

His love for her had literally burned his world down… but it’d also saved him.

That realization stunned him into silence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“What? No,” Oliver said, shaking his head. “No, you don’t-”

“Shh,” Felicity said, pushing herself up to look at him. Her sudden burst overpowered him and he had to let her go as she propped herself up to look at him. Her fingers were wet with both their blood as she touched his face. Her eyes were becoming glassy, making his heart wail with pain and grief… but she was still there. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t wanted one more day, nobody would have known. Nobody would’ve died, my… my mom, and… and _Tommy_.”

“No.” Oliver cupped her face, pressing his thumb over her lips to stop her. “No, stop. It’s not your fault. I wanted to stay, too. I always wanted to stay, _always_. I never wanted to leave your side, Felicity, because every single time it felt like I was being ripped in half. You took more and more of me each time. And we did that for years. _Years_. We deserved that day, Felicity, we deserved it.”

Her face crinkled with sobs, more tears landing on him. “Oliver…”

“We deserved it,” he repeated. “We deserved it. I love you. I love you, okay? _I love you_.”

Felicity nodded, saying, “I love you,” over and over before her lips fell on his.

The kiss hurt both of them, but they didn’t care, giving each other everything they had left. The coppery taste of blood flowed between them, just as readily as their love for each other. They kissed until they didn’t have the strength, until her arms gave out, until he couldn’t hold her up anymore. They collapsed to the ground together, using the last of what they had left to wrap around each other.

When Oliver opened his eyes again, several minutes had passed.

The world was growing dimmer.

“It was worth it,” Felicity said, her voice far away. “So much… so much has broken because of this, but it was worth it. To love you, to be loved by you, Oliver… It was worth it. I don’t regret a single thing. I don’t.”

“Neither do I,” Oliver whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Neither do I.”

He kept his lips pressed there until she moved, turning her face up to his. She nuzzled his jaw, his cheek, moving until her lips found his.

 _“I love you,”_ she said, her voice dying halfway. But her lips kept moving and he said the rest of the words with her…

_Always._

_Forever._

_Mine._

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/169078774534/i-guess-dying-with-you-isnt-the-worse-way-to)
> 
> (I am working on a quick sequel to the Rival Artists AU.)


	50. I Could Never (Rival Arists: Conclusion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel/Conclusion to Chapter 48: [Rival Artists](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264089/chapters/30150954).
> 
> AU Prompt via Anonymous: “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt that fit this sequel _perfectly_. 
> 
> **This chapter is rated Explicit.** It's not wildly explicit, but since this collection is rated Mature, I'm going to error on the side of caution.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos for the other AU's! I'm so glad you're enjoying them!

It was nearly one in the morning when Oliver stepped into the room where his project was and stopped dead in his tracks.  


A torrent of thoughts hit him all at once:

She shouldn’t be here, nobody should be here, not this late; all he’d wanted to do was finish his project in peace, without her _hovering_ and bumping into him and sniping at him at every fucking turn; he’d spent all morning schmoozing that cute girl on staff to get a key to the building for nothing; why the hell was _she_ here, now, of all times?

But they all disappeared just as quickly as they came to him, because…

Felicity Smoak was wearing nothing but a pair of snug, cropped denim shorts that were glued to her ass and a threadbare white tank top that told him two very important things: she’d gotten a tattoo since the last time he’d seen her naked, and she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Oliver’s mouth went dry.

If she turned around he knew he’d see right through that damn shirt. He didn’t need to see them to remember just what those pert little mounds looked like, how they sloped down into a perfect pear shape, how her nipples hardened into tight little beads that matched the color of her lips when they were bare.

And she was _swaying_ , listening to whatever music was in her earbuds as she stared up at the mosaic she was was working on. His eyes followed the lines of her body down and then back up, tracing the delicate line of her neck to the messy bun she’d shoved all that long, gorgeous hair up into.

His dick stiffened, making his jeans even more uncomfortably tight than they already were due to the building being a goddamn sauna because the air conditioning kept shitting out.

Even in the middle of the night the air was stagnant, but that wasn’t deterring her in the least.

A small paintbrush hung from her left hand and two occupied her right, all three holding different colors. She absently tapped the two in her right hand together lightly, transferring paint between the two brushes, something he noticed she often did. She wasn’t about maintaining the purity of color, not like him. No, she liked mixing everything, blurring boundaries, introducing spatters and lines that wouldn’t belong in his art.

It challenged him in ways he never could have dreamed a couple years ago, made him rethink things that used to have a solid foundation, forced him to reevaluate pieces he thought were done. Not that he’d ever tell her that. Or that her art was the perfect representation of _her_ , of the very thing that made her _Felicity Smoak_ , and that was why she was so damned good.

“Goddamn it,” Oliver whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and bowing his head.

There wasn’t room for any of that romantic fluff bullshit, not here, never here. She’d made herself perfectly clear where he stood in her life and that was just fine.

Biting the tip of his tongue, Oliver forced himself to move, to ignore her, going to his own canvas.  Their deadline was looming and he had to get this thing finished.

As he set up his workstation, it took all of his goddamn willpower to keep his focus on what his hands were doing and not on her. That proved nearly goddamn impossible when she started singing under her breath to whatever she was listening to. That was fine, though. _He_ was fine… up until she swung her arm out in some move.

His gaze snapped back to her like a moth to the flame.

Despite himself, he stared. _He drank her in_ , watching her hips twist, nearly biting through his lip when she let her head fall back, whispers of the song on her lips. He had an intimate knowledge of every which way her body could move, knew exactly what touch she needed to get her to arch her back, to make her gasp, to have her shuddering as she found completion in his arms.

_Get back to work, jackass._

The demand fell on deaf ears as he instead wondered what she would do if he went up behind her and slipped his hands underneath that thin tank top of hers, if he pressed his skin to her heated flesh. He wondered if she was as sticky as he was or if his fingers would smoothly glide down the taut line of her abdomen to the snug line of those damn shorts.

An image of him pushing her into the wall just as he shoved his hand down her pants to find her already soaking wet - _for him_ \- filled his thoughts…

She spun around.

Felicity shouted, jumping away from him, crashing into the ladder as her hands flew to her chest. The sudden movement resulted in her smearing red, blue and gold all over neck and arm and shirt from from the paintbrushes and…

The ladder tipped over.

With a curse, Oliver lunged towards it, nearly bowling her over as he grabbed the ladder before it could fall. Rather, before the two cans of dark blue and red sitting on the small shelf of the ladder could fly through the air.

It happened so fast that one second he was standing a good four feet away from her and the next he was plastered to her where she stood between him and the ladder, both of them breathing hard - _breathing each other_ \- with his arms bracketed around her.

The only sound was their breathing and the dull echo of her music where her earbuds were still in her ears.

Oliver could see where her heart was racing, her pulse point moving almost as fast as her quick, short breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly. A smear of blue was on her throat, right where her blood pumped. Her skin was damp, sticky with sweat, catching the overhead light, and… and he absolutely could see through her goddamn shirt.

Felicity shivered and he knew it was because he was staring, and it made her nipples peak. They poked through the shirt, grazing his chest.

The seam of his pants bit a painful trail into his growing hard-on.

When Oliver finally looked back up, her eyes were on his mouth, her wet lips parted in a pant, her lids heavy.

His lips actually _tingled_ with the need to kiss her and fuck him, _he almost did_.

Oliver let out a harsh gasp and it seemed to break through whatever the hell this was between them.

She moved first.

Felicity shoved him away, smearing paint all over his white shirt, matching the streaks covering her.

“Hey,” he snapped, but she didn’t care.

Felicity shoved him again, even harder, and more paint got all over him much to his chagrin as she yanked her earbuds out with a, “What the hell are you doing, Oliver? You scared the hell out of me!”

Oliver gritted his teeth, holding his hands up as he backed up a few paces. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, you did,” she snapped, wiping her mouth before swiping her hand over her chest.

His eyes dropped down of their own damned volition and his nostrils flared when he saw her breasts more clearly. It was like she was suddenly sweating more, making her shirt more damp. Heat tugged at his core and he curled his hands into tight fists. With a silent curse, Oliver forced his gaze back to her face again only to find her eyes on his chest, where his own thin t-shirt was sticking to him. That heat in his core turned into a scorching burn at the sight of her pupils blown wide and flushed cheeks. Her gaze dropped down to his thick bulge - and fuck if he didn’t get harder at just that alone. She swallowed before seemingly catching herself.

Felicity jerked, her eyes snapping back up to his. He wanted to smirk knowing she was just as affected as he was, wanted to dig the knife in a little deeper, but at the same time he didn’t.

He wanted…

Fuck, he didn’t know _what_ he wanted.

“Just…” Was her voice uneven, or was he imagining things? She pursed her lips and waved at his wall. “Stay over there.”

Oliver huffed. “Don’t get those precious panties of yours all twisted up,” he said. “I’m not coming near you.”

She snorted. “Right. ‘Cause you didn’t just get all up in-”

“Hey, your clumsy ass nearly knocked that ladder over.”

“Well, if you hadn’t been creeping around-”

“I wasn’t creeping,” Oliver retorted before shaking his head. “Whatever, just… This stupid thing is almost done and then the guy you hate so damn much will be out of your way for good. Let’s just get this the fuck over with, okay?”

Something flickered in her eyes, but it was gone before he could catch it.

Felicity shuttered her face, giving him a cold smile and a chilly, “Fine, great,” before turning back to her wall.

His eyes dropped to her ass again, to those long legs that ended in a pair of paint-stained boots that were somehow just as sexy as that damn tank top of hers before he turned back to his wall. He went back to his workstation, catching her whispering under her breath before she shoved her earbuds back in.

When Oliver had his palette ready, he glanced back at her one last time. His heart stopped when he caught her staring at him. She flushed, anger coloring her face a quick second later, and then she was back to her wall.

They worked in silence for nearly an hour.

It seemed to work…

Except it really fucking didn’t.

The space was too damned small for both of them. They bumped into each other more often than not, morphing the silence in the room into something damn near lethal. Each brush of her skin against his left a trail of fire that made his heart beat too fast, rivaling the heat in the room as the air conditioner continued to try and turn on only to fail. It’s creaking and groaning in the far corner of the building could be heard every few minutes, and it grated on Oliver’s nerves… almost as much as catching sight of her luscious form from the corner of his eye. He had to readjust himself every few minutes, leaving new paint smears all over the front of his jeans where he held his brush. He didn’t give two shits. He wished he’d worn different pants. He wished it wasn’t so damned hot. He wished he wasn’t there, that she wasn’t there, that he could work in peace.

And he wished that he really actually meant that.

Curses fell from his lips every few minutes, his mind spinning out of control. He painted with harsh strokes, his mural turning into something other than what he’d intended, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was turning into an angry mess of color that was a perfect realization of the fucked up shit in his head when it came to Felicity Megan Smoak.

Goddamn it, if he had to touch her one last time…

Their arms brushed.

Felicity froze, her eyes slipping shut as every single one of Oliver’s senses zeroed in on his arm.

It was the last damned straw.

He jumped away from her…

Right into the goddamn ladder.

She’d moved it and he hadn’t even noticed, shifting it closer to his wall, close enough that he bumped into. Neither of them were fast enough to stop it this time and the can of blue paint teetered on the small shelf…

And fell.

It slammed into the floor, splattering paint all over the corner their walls shared, hitting both of their projects.

But mostly hers.

“No!” Felicity gasped, running to the corner, grabbing the drop cloth shoved in the corner and dabbing it off. It wasn’t a lot, thank fuck, but it was definitely enough to detract the eye.

Definitely enough to fuck it up.

“Shit,” Oliver breathed, watching her work. His was far more fixable than hers. It actually even fit, in a screwed up way. She managed to get most of the paint off, using her own shirt after the drop cloth got most of it, and then she worked on trying to blend the rest of it in. It wasn’t completely gone, though. Oliver set down his palette and brush. “Felicity-”

“God, Oliver!” she ground out, spinning around to face him. She threw her paintbrushes at him, one hitting his face, the others landing on his chest, leaving splotches of color. “Are you trying to sabotage me?”

“What? No,” he said, but she didn’t hear him. She grabbed the large cup of dirty water she’d been working with and threw it at him. Oliver tried to catch it, but he was too wide and water sprayed _everywhere_ , on him and on his wall. “Damn it, Felicity!”

She advanced on him, shoving on his chest again, with enough force to send him flying backwards. “You… stupid… jerk!” she said, shoving him again with each word, until his back hit his wall. He could feel the wet paint where he’d been working and he growled something unintelligible, shoving away from the painting, but she was in the way and she didn’t give him anywhere to go. Felicity pushed on his chest again, but he didn’t budge this time, and it had her eyes flaring with anger and something darker. “You asshole!”

“It was an accident,” Oliver snapped, grabbing her arms to hold her back. But the instant he touched her she leapt away from him. His own aggravation was swirling inside him but he forced himself to bite out, “Felicity, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I,” she said, scrubbing her paint-caked hands over her face. She shoved them under her glasses, rubbing her eyes before pushing them into her hair, dislodging her bun as she struggled to speak. “God, you… you are such a…”

“Felicity-”

He barely had her name out before she was closing the distance between them. Oliver blinked, his stomach dropping, bracing himself to be hit again.

She didn’t hit.

Instead she grabbed his face and yanked him down to her.

Their lips crashed together in a painful kiss, making Oliver gasp. She didn’t stop, holding him tight, kissing him with a viciousness that had him shuddering. When he started kissing her back, when he nipped at her bottom lip, when his hands found her waist, his fingers digging in, she demanded even more, angling his head to kiss him deeper, harder.

Oliver wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, taking their fill, before Felicity wrenched herself away. She fell back a few steps, leaving him rooted in one spot, his hands hovering in midair, watching her through heavy lids. She licked her swollen lips and touched them a second later. Her fingers shook slightly, that dark look back in her eyes as she stared at him.

It was desire. She wanted him, just as bad he wanted her.

Electricity charged the air, raising the hairs on his arms, on the back of his neck.

He told himself to _think_ , to remember where he was and who he was with, what had happened the last time they gave into whatever the hell this was between them. But he didn’t care, about any of it. Not right now, not when she was looking at him like that, not when he wanted her so bad he could _taste_ it.

Oliver’s feet were moving before he knew what was happening.

Her eyes widened minutely, her lips parting in a gasp, and then he was on her, cupping her face, tilting her head back, his lips slanting over hers. He took as much as he could, plundering her, drinking every little noise she made as they stumbled backwards, going until they collided with a wall.

He had enough awareness to know they were right on the edge of her painting, _right there_ …

Felicity gasped his name and nothing else mattered.

Oliver slid one hand around to cup her neck, his thumb on her jaw, keeping her head angled just right as his other slid down her front. His knuckles grazed her breasts, her hard nipples, making her whimper, but he didn’t stop. He found the front of her shorts and they were just as snug as he knew they would be. With practiced ease, Oliver flicked the button open, giving him enough room to shove his hand inside.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.

He groaned, and it mirrored her needy gasps as he pushed his hand down until he found her sex. The next noise he made was barely human when he found her already wet, so damned wet, just _waiting_ for him. Felicity clung to his shoulders, her attention alternating between his lips and his fingers, whining as he slid his fingers through her juices.

For a split second he thought about teasing her, building her, reducing her to nothing but the quivering mess he knew he could, but he just didn’t have the damned patience.

Oliver found her tender little pearl and began rubbing it in quick, harsh circles.

A startled cry fell from deep in Felicity’s chest and her knees nearly gave out, but he caught her, swallowing her next moan as she fell under his onslaught.

Oliver shoved her up against the wall, pushing his thigh between her legs, forcing her to spread them. He shivered when his heavy bulge pushed into her hip, instinct taking over in the form of tiny little thrusts that sent sparks of pleasure cascading through his veins.

Fuck, he needed her. He needed her _now_.

And she knew it.

She _felt_ it.

Felicity dragged her hands down his front, her nails scoring him, making him hiss. She didn’t relent, not until she found the front of his jeans. The buttons were undone in the next second and she was ripping his pants open, making him curse when the harsh material of his jeans pinched him.

As if they were on the same wavelength, they pulled apart.

Felicity quickly undid her pants and shoved them down her legs, her eyes watching him where he pushed his pants and boxers down just enough for his erection to pop free. The look on her face when she saw nearly had him coming undone. She got one leg free from her shorts and that was all she needed. Felicity reached for him, just as he reached for her.

It was pure instinct, pure need, pure lust driving them, taking over.

Oliver wrapped one arm around her waist and grabbed her leg with his other hand, hauling her up, pushing her up against the wall. He brushed through her wetness, her heat scorching his sensitive flesh, making his eyes roll back.

Felicity reached between them, gripping him tight, guiding him to her entrance.

He thrust into her.

Oliver’s muscles strained as he pinned her to the wall, hooking her leg over his arm, his other hand grabbing her waist hard enough to leave bruises. He moved with hard, echoing thrusts, burying his face in her neck, shoving himself as close as he could, trying to bury himself as deep as possible. She scrambled for purchase, her head falling back against the wall, one arm wrapping around his shoulders, pulling at his shirt, her nails digging into his back as her other hand shot out.

It would only be later when they realized they had shifted onto her painting, that her nails scratched four deep lines right through it, her back leaving an imprint that he made deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Pleasure and pain came together in a vibrant white heat at his core. Her inner walls squeezed around him, hot and smooth and so damn good. He grunted, his noises falling right on the heels of her whimpered gasps for air. He was vaguely aware of her other foot pushing up on her toes, trying to match his thrusts, especially when her hips started moving quicker as her pleasure started building.

_Yes, yes, yes._

He remembered how fucking exquisite it was when she came around him and god, he wanted that. He _needed_ it.

Oliver pushed her higher up on the wall, every inch of him burning with exertion, shoving her up high enough so he could bury his face into her chest. He pushed her shirt out of the way with his face, just enough to find her breast, to wrap his lips around one of her hard nipples. The sound she made was stunning, and he elicited another one, and another as he wrapped his lips around it, flicking his tongue over the hard bud.

Each noise she made ratcheted his pleasure higher and higher, twisting the coil at the base of his spine, tightening it until he was thrusting into her with abandon.

She buried one of her hands in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp, her thighs starting to quiver with the force of her oncoming orgasm. Her moans grew louder, more erratic, her entire body starting to shake as they moved together, harder and harder, faster…

A loud crash sounded, followed by an even louder thud, but they were too far gone to care.

It wasn’t long before she found her peak. With a ragged moan, Felicity fell to pieces, jerking with the force of her pleasure, her nails dragging down the back of his neck hard enough to draw blood. Her inner walls pulsed around him, drowning him in sensation.His thrusts lost all rhythm  as she pulled him in deeper, urging him to let go, to fall apart with her.

With a harsh growl of her name, he did, spilling into her.

He didn’t stop thrusting, not until his legs almost gave out, until the harsh jerks wrenched another, smaller orgasm from her that had her throwing her head back with a loud thud that hurt like hell if her cry was any indication.

Oliver finally stilled.

It was a long while before he couldn’t hold her up any longer.

He slowly let her leg down, slipping out of her in the process. He grimaced, but it wasn’t enough to distract from setting her down gently, making sure she found her legs. Her hands grasped at his shirt, holding onto him, her head lolling forward, her forehead landing on his chest.

Oliver moved without thinking, pushing his hands up her shoulders and neck to the back of her head, rubbing the spot where she’d hit it. She made a tiny sound of discomfort and he pushed his fingers into her hair, gentling his movements, massaging until her muscles started to relax.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, lost in the afterglow, fighting to regain their equilibrium before Felicity finally moved.

Oliver almost didn’t let her go, but then common sense reared its ugly head, reality barging in, and he did.

He stepped back, tucking himself back into his pants as she pulled her shorts back up.

All the intensity from earlier was gone, replaced with something far gentler, something almost fragile. He was afraid to say anything, to do anything. Hell, he didn’t even want to move. But he had to.

Scrubbing his face, Oliver listened to her pull the zipper of her shorts up before he finally forced himself to turn away.

“Oliver.”

Her hand was on his arm, pulling him back around, and he turned just as she pushed up onto her toes and cupped his jaw, her lips finding his.

This kiss was everything their first one hadn’t been.

It was gentle, easy, almost…

His stomach swooped and he kissed her back. He followed her lead completely. When she tilted her head, he reciprocated. When she melted into his chest, he let himself fall against her. When she sighed, running her tongue over the seam of his lips, he opened for her. He captured her bottom lip between his and when she deepened the kiss, he let himself think that maybe, just maybe…

The emotions clamoring in his chest filled him to the goddamn brim, leaving no room for anything but just _feeling_. It was heady and everything around him blurred into nothingness as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her.

When she finally pulled away, it was with a soft, “Oh,” before she fell back on her heels.

He didn’t let her go far.

Like she was the center of gravity, Oliver followed her down, curling around her, pressing his forehead to hers. They breathed each other’s air, his nose brushing hers, her nails drifting through his stubble.

It was quiet and soft and nothing like what he would have ever expected.

Her lips found his again, but this time the kiss was soft, chaste…

“I don’t hate you,” she breathed. Oliver’s heart stopped, his eyes snapping open. He tried to pull back to look at her, but she didn’t let him go. “I could never hate you, Oliver.” She huffed out a quietly broken laugh. “That’s the problem.”

“What?” he whispered, running his hands up her back, trying to pull back to look at her again, but she just shook her head, slipping out of his grasp. “Felicity.”

But she just wiped her lips, her eyes finding his once more before darting away…

And then she left.

And he let her.

Oliver didn’t move for a long while, but when he finally did look around, he saw what the crash had been:

She had kicked the ladder over, sending the remaining can of paint careening through the air, leaving thick streaks of red cutting right through his mural.

**The End (except for what’s down below)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, the writer: _Just talk, you idiots._
> 
> Them: _Nah._
> 
> (They do have a happy ending. They don’t see each other until after the projects are turned in (and Oliver doesn’t fix the red that cuts right through his), but when they do, Oliver asks her if she wants to get some coffee. She doesn’t respond right away and he almost runs away but then she stops him, lacing her fingers with his, and that’s how this crazy passion turns into crazy love and a happily ever after… with a lot of arguing of course, and fights, although their rivalry does die down, turning into a beautiful support system that stems from each of them finally finding their own voice in their art (mostly thanks to their new relationship and finding their Someone). I’m trying to stop myself from writing more.)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/169133457604/54-i-dont-hate-you-i-could-never-hate-you)


	51. You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best Friends AU.
> 
> Prompt via smoakqueenalways: “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love best friend AU's, okay, I love them a lot. I still have some prompts from my last request on Tumblr and they're just sitting in my drafts, waiting to be posted for literally no reason other than I keep forgetting that they're there. *head!desk*
> 
> This is just random silly fluffiness. The world always needs random silly fluffiness.

**“I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.”**  


The look that crossed his face was downright comical as people turned to see what the commotion was.

“I can’t do it,” Felicity reiterated, even louder.  


Oliver leaned in with a hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”  


“Remember that lovely lady named Jewel who somehow always manages to appear when you are suddenly single?” Felicity whispered back through a forced smile. He visibly paled and she nodded. “Yeah, _her_. She’s here, at your fundraiser, right over there… Don’t look, god! I’m trying to save your ass, so _play along_.”  


“Oh, uh…”  


“If I can’t be with you, then nobody can,” Felicity declared, her voice rising with such a dramatic flair that Oliver couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. He tried to hide it, but he failed and she smacked his chest. 

Oliver schooled his features. “I had no idea you felt that way,” he replied, raising his voice. “If I’d known-”

“Lies!” Felicity interrupted so abruptly that she almost broke character herself. It had Oliver trying not to smile again, but he was failing, which only made her almost start laughing herself. She shoved on his chest to get back into the moment, but the seriousness of it hadn’t really been there to begin with. That didn’t stop her, though, and she continued with a pointed finger and a faux-heated, “I’ve known you your entire life, Oliver Queen, I know when you’re lying to me.”  


The next smile that crossed his face was genuine, a sparkle in his eye. “You always do.”

“Damn right,” Felicity retorted, looking over his shoulder. Jewel was gone. She glanced around quickly. “Huh. I don’t see her anymore. Do you think that actually-”  


Oliver didn’t let her get the rest of the words out as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into him. Felicity grinned, thinking he was going to continue the charade… 

Instead, he kissed her. 

Felicity gasped. It was so fast she barely had the chance to react, not until he was pulling away. She didn’t even _think_. Instinct roared through her and before she knew what she was doing, she was pushing up onto her toes and kissing him back. His lips were so soft, and when she captured one of them between hers, he let out a startled sigh, his fingers digging into her. 

When they finally pulled apart, her world was spinning.

“You know she’s gone, right?” Felicity whispered.   


A deep flush colored his cheeks, his eyes morphing into a dark liquid blue that swirled with emotion, making her heart beat so fast she thought it might jump out of her chest.

“And you know I didn’t kiss you just to chase someone away,” he replied, his voice low and gritty.

“Oh,” Felicity breathed, because it was the only thing she could think of. She blinked. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Oliver replied with a grin. “Oh.”  


“Oh,” she repeated, nodding, her grin matching his before she pulled his lips back to hers.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/171176456019/98)


	52. You Loved Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghosts AU.
> 
> Prompt via smoakqueenalways: “Stop running from this. I know I’m not the only one who feels it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still catching up on old prompts in my drafts. Here's a much more cheerful ghost AU than the one previously posted in this collection!

**“Stop running from this. I know I’m not the only one who feels it.”**

“No,” Felicity said, her voice shaking, her fingers still tingling where his had just gone through hers. “You just  _think_ you feel it. But I don’t. Because of course I wouldn’t, this is ridiculous. We can’t _touch_ , Oliver. It’s not possible, and I can’t believe I let you…” 

She turned to leave.

“Felicity,” the ghost growled, following her. She waved him away over her shoulder, ignoring him when he repeated her name, drawing it out this time. “ _Fe-li-ci-ty_.”  


That usually made her shiver, the way he savored each syllable of her name, like it meant something to him. 

But it couldn’t, because she was a living, breathing thing and he… He was not.

He growled out a curse, like he knew what she was thinking. Felicity almost laughed. _He_ was frustrated? Alright, yeah, maybe he had a reason to be frustrated just by virtue of the fact that he was dead and he was stuck haunting her house, but he wasn’t the one in love with a… 

Oh _god_ , she couldn’t be in love with him. 

She had to get the hell out of there.

“Let me try again,” Oliver said, his voice solidifying more and more with each passing second as his emotions got higher. She knew if she looked at him that he’d be more solid, like he always was when he got worked up. It was like all that excess energy focused inside him, making him more visible. _More real_. It’d been amazing, at first. Miraculous. But right now, with him pushing her like this, she couldn’t deal with it. _At all._ “Felicity-”

“No, Oliver, stop!” She spun to face him. “You were an asshole before, but _this_? I never thought you would ever stoop so low to take something I said in a _dream_ and try to twist it-”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he snapped. “I just want…” 

His hand came up to her cheek and despite herself, her heart stopped in anticipation. How many times had she wondered? How often had she ached to feel his fingers against hers, to know how how warm he was, to finally answer her unspoken question about whether the stubble dusting his jaw was soft or spiky? 

To actually _feel_ his breath against her ear instead of just hearing it… 

To kiss him? 

But she never would. 

A sob wrenched itself from her chest and she stepped back before he could make contact. He’d just heard her whispering his name in her sleep, saying things she’d never say to his face because it was _insane_. It wasn’t real. Because it couldn’t be.

She turned away.

“Felicity,” Oliver breathed, sounding so real. “Wait.”

And then _he grabbed her hand_.

Felicity gasped, whipping around. 

His fingers were warm, and strong, and _solid_ , and…

“Oh my god,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Oh my god.”

He was shocked, too, but he was quicker to recover. The most beautiful smile she’d ever seen in her life crossed his face and then he tugged her into him. She didn’t have a chance to argue before she was falling into his arms. He wrapped her up, one hand cupping her face… 

Oliver kissed her.

Time stopped. It hung suspended around them, pausing for something so incredible that Felicity was sure she was dreaming. But this wasn’t a feverish dream of what-if’s. She’d never _known_ what he felt like, what he tasted like, not like this. His lips were warm and soft, and weirdly chapped considering he was a ghost. That only made it more real. It took her far too long to give in and respond, but when she did, she swore the ground disappeared out from under her. 

_She was kissing Oliver._

When they finally pulled away, his breathing was just as ragged as her. And she could _feel_ it. She could _feel_ him. He was breathing so heavily and his body was so warm and _firm_. She dug her fingers into his biceps, trying to think, to… to do _something_ , anything.

“Oh my god,” was all she could manage. She shook her head, looking up at him. He was just as dazed as her. “Oh my god.”

“I know,” he breathed in wonder.

“How?”

“Your dream. I felt it, Felicity. I felt _you_ , when you said…”

“When I said I love you,” she finished. “Oh wow.”

“But then you woke up and said it was impossible.” That focused him. Oliver shook his head, dragging his finger down her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact. “How you think I could never love you is beyond me.”

Happiness filled her chest to the brim as she looked up at him. “You love me?”

“I do. So much.” He looked at her like she was everything to him and in that moment, she believed it. “I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

“But… how? How is this…?”

“You loved me,” he said simply. “And you brought me back to life.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/171203190644/63)


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